


as fast as i can

by stylesmysunshine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: I can't write smut sorry, M/M, also louis is a shit narrator, i'm basically playing a game of how many times can i mention them having sex without writing smut, in this vine harry dies, it still might though, just thought you should know, louis calls harry haz a few times, that i gave a backstory, that isnt necessarily going to happen, this gets really sad but stick with me, this is really fluffy at the beginning, this was originally a vine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesmysunshine/pseuds/stylesmysunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>and i honestly can’t imagine how, just, strange life will be with you gone for so long, harry. hell, i nearly killed myself after three days. and i know things are supposed to get better with time but i don’t want this sting to go away because it’s the only piece of you that i have to hold on to and can carry it around wherever i go and it’s only left me once or twice now but when it did i knew that with the sting, you’re fading too.</i><br/> </p><p>so i was playing around with a story of what it'd be like if harry fell into a coma, and somehow it ended up being a story of what louis would be like if harry fell into a coma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart

**Author's Note:**

> so, i never planned on sharing this anywhere, but tbh i'm just really proud of how it's turning out. i'm not sure how long this is gonna be or where it's going or how it's gonna end, but hopefully i'll be able to find my ending eventually. okay, anyway, i hope you enjoy! (PS. i feel like i must be like infringing on copyright laws or something, so here is the vine that inspired this all: https://vine.co/v/MlitgpOZg79)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, when i was writing this i decided to break this story into 3 parts: before the accident, during the time harry's asleep, and afterwards (aka when harry does/does not wakes up). each chapter title is a lyric from sleeping at last's song turning page. so this is part one and it's super sappy and domestic (at first, for the most part) and i hope you enjoy

It’s not until you’re sat in a crowded hospital waiting room all alone that you realize silence is a state of mind.

And perhaps this is why Louis seems to lose his grasp of time. Perhaps this is why he is able to stop himself from receiving any noise made outside the discord of his own brain.

Perhaps this is how he can remind himself it’s important to keep your head straight in times of trauma. They say to just think about what you know. All Louis could seem to remember was an argument. Not how he got to the hospital, not why he was there, no. Just a disagreement.

It started two days ago, back at Louis’ flat.

 

___

 

Louis bit down on Harry’s lip and let out a soft, “ _Ugh_ ”. Harry pulled back and let out a little sigh, smiling, and thinking, _typical._

“So, are you gonna get it or shall I?” Harry chuckled, running his fingers down the muscular right side of Louis’ back. Harry always thought it was funny how the muscles on the right side of Louis’ spine were ever so slightly more defined than the left.

“No, no, I’ll go,” Louis murmured, pulling his fingertips out from under the waistband of Harry’s boxers.

After slipping away from the hold of Harry’s arms, Louis padded over to his home phone; caller ID notified him it was a call from their management. He picked up the phone and answered with a sing-songy “Hello?”

“Louis, hi,” a too-friendly voice responded.

“This is Amanda, isn’t it?” Louis snickered, recognizing her trademark bullshit tone.

“Correct! Now, are you with Harry by any chance?”

“I am by any chance! Actually you caught us at an absolutely awful time, you see I’ve finally snagged him away for some alone time and as you called I was just about to get him out of those tight little knickers of—”

“Damn straight!” Harry called over from the other room, giggling to himself.

At the same time, though, Louis was also interrupted by Amanda, awkwardly yelling, “Louis, enough!”

Louis cackled. _Too easy._

After clearing her throat, Amanda continued, “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, or haven’t, I guess, I seriously have to talk to you two. Can you please call Harry over and put me on speaker?”

“Your wish is my unwilling command,” Louis answered dryly. “Harry! ’Manda has something to tell the two of us.”

“Coming!” Harry answered, hopping out of Louis’ bed to join him in the atrium. “Here, Amanda.”

“Good,” she huffed through the phone. “Now I’m just calling to check in on you two. You know, even though the tour just ended, you can’t let your guard down. Just be sure to follow the same precautions as always. And remember you’re not going to a tour bus together every night, and it is once again inexcusable for you two to start going back to one of your houses together. Remember, you leave separately for a _reason_ —”

“Yeah, the reason is you people,” Harry spat out softly. Louis touched his arm warningly.

“Nonetheless,” Amanda added, keeping herself composed.

“Amanda, it’s been four fucking years of this, we know the drill. Me and Harry in a relationship is bullshit, nothing more. We’re band mates, no more, I get it,” Louis lectured.

“And no more talking to fans, we can’t trust them to not spread whatever you tell them or twist your words. I don’t care how personal or private the situation is—”

“Alright, Amanda, we got it,” Harry groaned.

“We know what we’re doing. We’ve come to terms with the rules we’re not gonna randomly rebel now, don’t worry. Harry and I are simply platonic. I have no feelings towards him. He feels the same towards me. Don’t you believe me?” Louis taunted.

“Fine. You two get back to your business, but no fuck ups, my boss wants us cracking down on this. Okay?” She was alright when she was being herself.

“Okay,” Louis cried.

“Bye, ’Manda,” Harry sang, pressing the end button.

“Gotta love her,” Louis chuckled, shaking his head as he walked towards the bedroom. Harry didn’t follow. “You coming or am I gonna have to start on my own?”

“Louis, hold on.” Harry started walking. “Are we just going to let them ‘crack down on us’? Are you really that okay with them calling to check in?”

“Harry, we really don’t have much of a choice, you remember the whole, ‘be straight or be on the street’ thing? Hm?” Louis teased with a little chuckle.

“I know, I know.” Harry joined Louis in the bedroom now.

“What’s gotten into you? You haven’t had much of a problem with our ‘special situation’ before and how they see us,” Louis furrowed his eyebrows, walking to close the gap between the two.

“I dunno, maybe, like, the not talking to _fans_? I mean who are they to tell us how to interact with _fans. Our_ fans. I just, it’s ridiculous.”

“Well, yeah, but. They’ve warned us about talking to fans before. Now we should probably actually _listen_ , but it’s the same course of action on their part,” Louis chuckled.

“It’s not just them, now. Actually it’s kind of you. You seem too comfortable now. Like, the things you said to Amanda, it’s just kind of weird hearing you say that stuff.”

Louis crossed his arms and shrugged, scrunching up his nose. “I just, wasn’t in the mood to fight. I finally get to enjoy this time with you, I just said what they wanted to hear so the conversation could end quicker.”

“Sounded more like what you wanted to say,” Harry pouted.

“Really, you think I truly believe we’re just platonic band mates? I didn’t know you do this with the others,” Louis giggled, moving in to kiss Harry’s neck, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Louis,” Harry snapped, resenting the kiss but not necessarily pulling away. “This is serious, at least for me. And that’s not what I mean.”

Louis pulled back and lifted his eyebrows.

“I mean you sound like we’ve just given up. They’re never gonna give up and let us come out if we don’t try to.”

“Harry, I know that. I just wasn’t thinking. After so long that’s what comes to mind when I have to think of you and me in front of other people. I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever.”

Louis knew this was what Harry did whenever he was sick of fighting, but still thought he was right and Louis wasn’t going to get the point of what he was trying to say. He had heard Harry utter these three words before, and knew it would either lead to Harry truly dropping the discussion or it would come back to bite him in the ass. Louis hoped for the former and tried to get Harry’s mind back to what was important: sex. Lots of it, hopefully. They hadn’t had an extensive amount of time to be alone with each other in too long, according to Louis. He needed this, deserved it.

“Baby,” Louis sang, smiling sweetly and wrapping his hands around Harry’s waist again, careful not to get too close to the waistband of Harry’s boxers too quickly. Louis had ruined plenty of moments like this before. “C’mon, you know how much I love you.” Louis started showering his chin, lips, and neck with little kisses. Then he stood on just the balls of his feet to just kiss his nose; that always drove Harry mad.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry giggled goofily.

Louis smirked, _got him._ “You still think I need to show you how much I love you?”

Harry laughed, which made Louis pull back in curiosity. “Lou, you’re so cute,” Harry remarked, cupping his bum to pull him closer and kissing his forehead. “We both know you were gonna show me that anyway.”

 

___

 

Louis’ eyes sting as he tries to blink away any more tears. “I would’ve fucking left on my own!” he cries as he struggles to break free of these two fit men in scrubs. “Eventually,” he adds, under his breath.

“Sir,” one says, softening his eyes.

 _Oh my God they can’t tell me any bad news right now._ “Listen, I’m in the waiting room where I meant to be, I promise I’ll stay out of the way,” he snaps. He scurries over to the first free seat he spots before they can say anything else.

Louis pulls out his phone, hands shaking. He squints, his brightness too low to see the screen in the brightly lit room. He attempts to brighten the screen, but before he gets to it he brings up his camera. Once his brightness is up he sees he refection in the phone.

_Holy fucking shit I look high._

This is, of course, in reference to his almost completely red eyes.

He puts away the camera and finds himself back on his lock screen.

_It’s only 8:37?_

“It’s way too fucking early for this,” Louis scowls softly, running a hand over his tear-stained face and unlocking his phone.

“Tell me about it,” the girl sitting next to him grumbles. From looking at her for maybe two seconds Louis knows he’s not up to hearing her story. She’s got long but unkempt blonde hair, looks like a college or maybe uni student, and is wearing an excessive amount of to make up, probably to compensate for the lack of clothes. “I’m only here cause my stupid boyfriend got into a fucking bar fight. I keep telling him he needs to—”

That was about all Louis heard before hearing rings on his phone. He calls Liam first, who picks up after four and a half rings. “Louis? What’s going on now?” he whines, clearly having woken up to answer the phone.

“Liam meet me at Royal London Hospital, right now. You know the one I’m talking about, yeah? And I’m in the trauma center.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Louis I’ll be there as soon as I can, but what’s happ—”

Louis hangs up before Liam can finish his thought, knowing he needs to call the others quickly. He also didn’t want to think about what happened; he doesn’t even know all the facts, he shouldn’t tell Liam something that ends up not being true.

The other boys react the same, all of them saying they’ll get there as quickly as they can, none of them being able to ask what’s going on and receive an answer.

Louis sits back down once he’s finished making phone calls. _Alright, the guys will be here soon, they’ll help you keep your head on. Just keep thinking straight, breaking down won’t help anyone. Don’t wander off to anyone what ifs, think about what you know…_

_____

The morning after was sticky. Literally.

It started with Harry’s 7:30 workout alarm going off (Louis thought it was insane Harry worked out so often. He didn’t think Harry should stress about something like working out considering the beautiful condition his body was in. Though maybe Louis was a little bias.)

Harry went to roll over to slam it off, only to find he was lying on top of the covers with his or Louis’ or both of their cum from last night, Louis, and dried saliva lying on top of him (not necessarily in that order). Harry smiled, thinking about last night. He hated admitting it, but Louis wasn’t the only one who had missed having sex as commonly as they used to. Harry was just scared of what Louis would do with that information considering how easy it was for Harry to hold that above Louis’ head.

Louis groaned, “Turn it off, turn it off,” waving one hand to the alarm clock.

“Alright, I am,” Harry said fondly. “Hey, champ.”

“Hm?” Louis answered, picking up his head and turning it to face Harry.

Harry chuckled at how Louis’ hair was matted down and to his face on one side. Four years of seeing this same type of bedhead and Harry still found it charming.

“Looks like we tired each other out and forgot to clean up last night.”

Louis examined Harry’s torso, then his own. “Looks like your right.”

Harry curled up a bit so his head was closer to Louis’. In doing this, Harry also created a more deeply defined lining of his six-pack, which Louis was grateful for. Harry knew that he was. “What do you think about hopping in a shower, doesn’t matter how messy we get in there,” Harry winked, revealing a long dimple.

“Oh, first-thing-in-the-morning-sex, I like the way you think,” Louis answered, forcing himself to sit up. Harry had already hopped out of his side of the bed (the right side) and walked over to Louis to offer a hand.

Louis looked at Harry’s extended hand, then up at his face. Louis took the hand.

Harry pulled Louis off the bed without letting go. “God, you love me.” He then pulled Louis closer. “Right?”

“You helped me up, don’t flatter yourself,” Louis scoffed.

Harry pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. He then let go of Louis, just slightly pushing him, and strolled to the bathroom.

Louis followed slowly, laughing. He loved teasing Harry.

And then he realized Harry had locked him out of the bathroom.

“Harry!”

The shower started.

“Oh my God!”

He could hear Harry’s victory laugh from the other side.

“You’re a fucking twat!”

“Do you love me now?”

Louis chuckled, knowing he should let Harry have the win. “No!”

Harry’s laugh got louder.

 

Harry exited the bathroom twenty minutes later, his hair sopping wet and a towel (unnecessarily) wrapped around his waist.

“Nice shower?” Louis asked sarcastically, still lying naked on the bed, not looking up from the phone in his hand.

Harry scoffed, “Lovely. Hot water felt _so_ nice on my back. You know—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sore from working out too much. You need to stop being so hard on yourself—you’re still not getting a massage out of me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, trying to conceal his happiness. Louis took note of this little joy—his always took notice. Harry’s shoulder bunching up to his jaw was a telltale sign he was happy about something—but Louis wasn’t sure what it was. He blew the thought off.

“Anyway, I need to get this stuff off me,” Louis sighed, bouncing off the bed.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t just lick it off yourself,” Harry remarked with a snort.

“I would’ve, unfortunately I just don’t bend that way,” Louis admitted, then proceeding to demonstrate.

After enjoying Louis struggle to get his tongue to his abdomen for a minute, Harry finally decided, “Enough, go shower!” with a laugh.

Louis made a face at him. Harry almost expected him to stick his tongue out at him, but they both knew the unspoken rule not to unless they were playing this one game and the other could either grab or just bite at it. Louis had always had a bit of a tongue fetish.

Louis just swaggered over to the bathroom, though.

_He’s such a baby. My baby, though._

Harry let the towel drop once Louis had started the shower and began to get dressed. Once he had almost put the second arm through the second sleeve of a dark button-down, he started hearing Louis. Moaning.

Harry buttoned up his shirt, missing the top three—no, two buttons, he had to make sure some of the bruises Louis left were definitely covered—and tried to tune him out. Unfortunately, Louis was way too vocal to be ignored so easily. Then it became a matter of determining whether it was real or fake. Louis would be the guy who jacks off in the shower while his significant other is in the room right next door, but he was also a hell of an actor and could easily just be taunting Harry.

After debating this over several times, Harry felt defeated and opted to just blast music over Louis and make the two some breakfast. This is just what Louis found him doing after exiting the shower and getting clothed.

“Did you enjoy my little show?” Louis breathed over Harry’s shoulder after pulling out one of his ear buds.

“Do you want breakfast or not?” Harry shot back, choosing that moment to throw some bacon on to a pan. Louis’ mouth watered as it sizzled.

 _He knows me way too well._ “Alright, alright, I’ll be good,” Louis threw his hands up, and then sat down at the table.

“Good boy,” Harry answered. Louis could hear the smile in his voice. “Should be done in a couple minutes.”

“Good, I’ve definitely worked up my appetite,” Louis smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Then came Louis’ favorite part of his days with Harry: planning. Louis hated planning, but Harry was always so excited for everything the day had to offer, and how could he not be excited? They were going to basically get their teeth brushed for them! Or, they were meeting up with Grimmy and other radio people who cares if some people in the group didn’t get along weren’t they just so lucky to have friends who want to spend this quality time with them?

Louis started the ritual off today. “So, what’s on the agenda for today? Anything fun?”

“Well we do have that little radio music festival, so really it’s just a matter of opinion,” Harry deadpanned, checking on the scrambled eggs. They were finished; he used his spatula to scoop some onto his and Louis’ plates.

Meanwhile, Louis was grunting, “Good, perform in front of a large audience that at least ten percent of hate us.” He actually loved festivals, it was fun to get a free show from other popular artists and see how they perform. Besides, they tended to get the most applause.

Harry frowned. “Eat your eggs.”

“No bacon?” Louis pouted.

“It’s not ready yet.” Harry spoke as he set Louis’ plate in front of him, and then sat down. “Remind me again why I do everything for you when you’ve had more life experience?”

“Because, I’m going to die sooner and need to enjoy my time while I have it. Now get the salt.”

Harry glared at him.

“Fine, get the salt, _please._ ”

Harry stood up forcefully, trudging to the pantry. “You know ‘Please’ doesn’t make you do anymore work,” he called.

“So then why’d you go?” Louis snorted as Harry returned with his salt. “Thank you, I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry grinned to himself as he checked on the bacon. He turned the six pieces over.

“Hey Babe?”

“Yep?” Harry answered instinctively.

“You wanna finish with today’s schedule?”

Harry turned, and then rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so needy.”

Louis stared at him with wide eyes.

“What? I didn’t say I wasn’t going to finish,” Harry assured him. Louis knew Harry enjoyed this part of the day, too.

“Good, now what time do we have to be at the thing and what are we doing until this time?”

Harry thought it over for a moment, watching the bacon darken. “We have to be there by four for our sound check and stuff, we don’t actually go on until like 9:30 at night, maybe? M’not sure; I know we’re towards the end, though. Anyway, that gives us, um, what time is it?”

Louis checked his phone. “Half nine.”

“Alright,” Harry muttered, turning off the stove, scooping up the bacon and setting it on a plate, “that gives us a good almost six hours to either hang around the flat, or I could kick you out.” Harry finished this last sentence with a wide smile, setting the plate on the table.

Louis grabbed a piece. “Nah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, though I’m sure you wish you could.”

“Please, I could easily kick your ass out of here if I wanted to,” Harry volleyed insincerely, taking a piece of bacon for himself.

Louis smiled. “Cheers.”

Harry took notice of the gesture just seconds before taking a bite. Harry moved his arm forward to tap Louis’ bacon with his own.

“Cheers.”

Harry also added a little “Clink!” as the two pieces touched.

“Harry, this isn’t a tea party,” Louis scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure.”

Louis knit his eyebrows. _I swear to God if he pulls out a fucking tea set…_

“I mean, don’t be so sure about anything. Yesterday I read this article about solipsism and I mean, what if we are imagining this bacon? What if I’m just a character, a figment of your imagination, who you decided makes bacon and eggs for you?”

Louis blinked slowly at Harry’s lit up eyes. “You are _so_ lucky you’re pretty.”

“But what if I’m not? What if you’re just imagining me as pretty?” Harry answered with a growing smile, his dimples both out and at full force, too. Louis felt his chest contract just slightly at the sight. _Will you ever get over those fucking dimples?_

“Harry, I’m not sure you even really understand what a solipsist is. And anyway, I’m creative, but not even _my_ imagination could concoct something as, well, _you_ as you are. Now stop, you’re making my head hurt,” Louis finished, pouting.

Harry’s smile softened; the effects his dimples had on Louis did not falter, though. “You really think I’m that special you couldn’t have created me?”

“Harry, if I was in charge here your hair would still look like it did in 2011. Or, shorter, at least.”

Harry’s jaw dropped slightly, but he was still smiling, kind of in a way that made his mouth look like a capital “D”, and his hands fell to the table. “Wow. Can’t even escape this abuse in my own home.”

“This is a relationship based on honesty to each other and all those around us,” Louis smirked, finishing his, what third piece of bacon? Fourth?

“Ha, ha, very funny. Now stop _hogging_ all the bacon.” Harry burst out giggling when he said “all”, ruining the effect of an already shit joke. Louis let him get his giggles out. Finally he breathed and huffed, “Really, though, what was that your third piece? Fourth?”

“I love how you get me,” Louis answered too quickly, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his head in his palm.

Harry pulled his eyebrows together, but smiled, scarfing down the remains of his breakfast.

“Speaking of bacon, what’s with the nice breakfast? I would’ve settled for cereal.”

“No milk,” Harry responded, trying not to let any pieces of food fall out of his vacuum of a mouth. “We didn’t have any toast to go with the eggs, either, so I settled for bacon. We need to stock up soon.”

“We? This is your flat, kid,” Louis shot back. Harry rolled his eyes. “Also, you don’t _settle_ for bacon.”

Harry frowned, pondering the statement. “That’s fair.”

Louis nodded. “Anyway, whadd’ya wanna watch? We missed so much on tour we should pick one show to binge watch today,” Louis proclaimed, food in his mouth.

“Why don’t we decide once you’ve finished.”

“Harry, do not patronize me, we both know I’m a slow eater we might as well do this now!”

“Fine, but we both know we’re just gonna end up watching Big Brother,” Harry snorted. Louis _always_ wanted to watch Big Brother.

“Well maybe I don’t want to watch that today! Maybe I’ve found a new show!” Louis argued stubbornly.

“Fine, I’m open to new ideas, what else would you want to watch?”

Louis stared at him for a moment scouring his brain for _any_ other TV show he and Harry have watched together ever, but he drew a blank. _Come on there must be one I mean I’ve been with you for four years we must have watched some other show. Oh shit, now he’s raising his eyebrows you’re dying here what’s another show?!_

“Fine, we’ll watch Big Brother. And I’m _sorry_ for just trying to keep this relationship alive.”

Harry snickered. “When are you gonna accept that I know you better than you do?”

“Harry, I like the sentiment but I don’t need you in my head, I get enough of you our here,” Louis whined.

“Jesus, any person in their right mind would like someone who can help them out like this.”

“Well there’s your answer.”

“True, you’re clearly not in your right mind.” Harry would not quit fucking _smiling._

“See, you’re doing it again! How would you know that if you weren’t in my head, hm?”

“That’s not even the argument we were having,” Harry sighed, trying to not laugh at his idiot boyfriend. To do so he got up and started walking to the living room. “I’ll get the show set up. And put our both our plates in the sink when you’re done!”

Louis tuned him out, rethinking the argument. _Oh yeah, that didn’t have anything to do with it_. He shrugged. No harm done.

Louis ate in silence for a few minutes while Harry set up the first episode they had missed. “Hey wait, are you putting on _Celebrity_ Big Brother?”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Can you?” Louis asked through the bacon in his mouth.

“On it, mate.”

Louis finished his breakfast silently, and had already forgotten Harry had asked him to do some washing up. Harry still hadn’t finished with this task by the time Louis finished his breakfast and walked over.

He stood as Harry struggled to set up the program. “I have no fucking clue why I trusted you with this,” Louis commented. Harry had about the same understanding of technology as 50-year-old mother of three. A deprived, living in a one bed flat, cable-less, single 50-year-old mother of three.   

“Hold on, I think I have it,” Harry murmured, mostly to himself for motivation.

Louis watched in amusement as Harry continued to struggle with the TV, before slowly asking, “Did you call me ‘mate’?”

Harry didn’t break focus from the screen when he answered, “Well, yeah. Was that wrong? _Aren’t_ you my mate?”

Louis chuckled, “Well, I don’t usually make my ‘mates’ beg for me and cry out my name the way I made you do last night, s’all.”

Harry smiled, “So? I’m just your… just a _special_ type of mate.”

“Harry, you’re my boyfriend, that’s your title.”

Harry then shed a too cheeky, shit-eating grin, finally turning his head towards Louis. “I know. It’s just been a while since I heard you say that.” He stealthily ducked his head under Louis’ to give him a dry peck on the lips.

Louis rolled his eyes. “You fucking came up with that whole ‘calling me mate’ plan just so I would call you my boyfriend?”

Harry shrugged.

“You’ve got way too much time to yourself, H,” Louis decided, throwing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

As he waits, Louis found himself wrapping his arms around Harry’s abdomen and hooking his chin on his shoulder. Harry didn’t even flinch; Louis guessed this had become too habitual. He frowned, wondering what he could do to make Harry squirm like he used, but decided it would be too much vulgarity for such a peaceful morning.

It took about three more minutes to do what should’ve taken about 20 more seconds for Harry to pull up the first episode of the season. _At least he got the right episode of the right show set up this time._

“Hey you’re getting better at that!” Louis mocked.

Harry, not realizing this wasn’t a compliment, answered, “Thanks! I haven’t even been practicing,” with a smirk.

Louis laughed as they plopped down on the couch and the episode began. Once Harry had joined him he succumbed to the urge and pressed one finger into Harry’s right dimple. Louis felt it shift around his finger as Harry smiled a bit wider. Louis removed his finger and replaced it with his lips for a moment.

Harry cuddled in to Louis’ shoulders, then saying, “Yeah, let’s not call each other ‘mate’. Too weird.”

Louis nodded in agreement.

Then, they both directed their attention to the TV.

The next six hours were filled with Louis getting worked up about who _needs_ to stay on and do you think because we’re famous we can get a say and that’s it I can’t watch anymore, and then watching some more.

In essence, the next six hours ending up being a binge watch of Celebrity Big Brother for Louis, and a binge watch of Louis Tomlinson for Harry.

Unfortunately, all they had were six hours to watch eleven episodes before Harry pulled the plug on the endeavor to finish the season in one go. They had to meet the crew at the location of the festival, which they assumed the driver knew, and so Harry decided it was time for them to stop at around 15:15 (Harry loved using military time when he spoke, said it made him feel more “organized”).

Because it was a rather big event the boys all had to be transported in one car that could get them in and out without any hold up from fans. None of the guys thought this was all that fair, but they also hated being mobbed.

“Did you tell anyone I’m here? I don’t want them stopping at my place,” Louis commented as Harry began a search for his shoes. “And Harry, the chair in your bedroom.”

“Got ’em, thanks,” Harry answered a moment later, after retrieving his boots. “And I’ll text them now, thanks for reminding me.”

“See? I do things on my own,” Louis bragged, tugging his jacket’s sleeves so he could get as much protection from the cold as possible. It was just starting to get biting wind cold in London.

“If that were true you’d be texting them yourself,” Harry sneered, walking into the atrium with Louis.

“If I texted them you might endanger your flawless record as a pushover!” Louis shot back. Harry glared at him. “Ah!” he squawked, knowing he had taken it a step too far. He paired his little scream with a dash to the safety of the back of the couch.

Harry rolled his eyes. _Just when he’s being helpful. And quiet._

“Yeah, you just keep that distance,” Louis called, trying to irritate Harry.

“Oh trust me, I will,” Harry scoffed, agreeing to play Louis’ game. Only for a little bit, though, it was a rare event when Harry didn’t just ignore Louis. This also meant they would only be doing this for a short amount of time. Harry would never react this way if they had time on their hands.

And then Louis threw a pillow at the back of Harry’s head. “Take that!”

Harry turned, bent down, picked up the pillow, and stood back up with it in one hand very slowly. More glaring ensued.

“Yeah okay you win this is stupid are they almost here?” Louis babbled. There were many appropriate times to brawl with Harry, 45 seconds before a driver and paparazzi showed up at their doorstep was not one of them.

Just as Louis reached Harry after walking over, Harry announced, “Okay, we can head down now.”

“What’s our story?” Louis asked as they began to walk.

“Erm, what?”

“Like, why were we together?”

“Oh. Um. You tell me, you’re the actor,” Harry murmured.

“Okay, we were, uh, we were, no. No! _You_ , you were skyping an old X-Factor buddy, I texted, you said get over here he wants to talk to you, and so I came over. Good?”

“Great,” Harry said dryly. They stepped outside.

Nothing like millions of camera flashes to kick off an eventful evening. Louis fought the urge to grab Harry’s hand as he plastered on his smile and pushed through cameras and teenagers to get to the car.

“Why didn’t we take the back?” Louis huffed once they were seated.

“Because there were fans out there too and we owe a little to them,” Harry quickly answered. “Seeing as they made us successful.”

Zayn also sat in the car in the seats behind them, probably wondering if they knew he was there and wishing he wasn’t sat in the back of the Escalade alone.

The ride to pick up Liam (who sat in the back with Zayn) and Niall was fast, as they didn’t live too far from Harry. Quickly they were en route to the venue.

They arrived at the venue two minutes before four and had an easy commute up to the main stage (only because there was a VIP parking lot with an elevator and stairs leading backstage.)

 _Who would think of making a VIP parking lot and does anyone who uses it not feel like a douchebag?_ Louis wasn’t sure if this was worthy to be shared with the group.

As they strolled over the asphalt, Louis jumped on Niall and Liam’s shoulders and blurted out, “Okay, who would think of making a VIP _parking lot_ and does anyone who uses it not feel like a douchebag?” He decided it was worthy.

Niall laughed. “True, its absolutely nuts.”

“Yeah, I feel like a douche for this,” Zayn added.

This earned a “Me, too,” from Liam and an “Agreed,” from Harry.

“Alright, we get how down-to-earth you all are but for today being a douche is your best option,” the security detail at the door to the staircase and lift said strictly.

Harry stepped up on this one. “Listen, we were just messing around, mate. Could we get through now maybe?”

The man gave a curt nod and swiped a key card to unlock to door to the staircase and allow for the lift doors to open.

“Let’s take the lift,” Zayn decided, pushing his way through as he spoke. They all went along with him.

As soon as the door drew closed Liam chuckled, “I cannot believe Paul let us come up on our own.”

“I know, and we’re actually doing it,” Louis responded.

“Very mature lot, we are,” Niall remarked, succeeding at keeping a straight face.

Louis wondered if the two security guards behind them who had gotten them into and rode with them in the car, ever felt unappreciated.

The elevator doors opened to the back of the stage, and they walked with smiling faces up to their Head of Security. They were also all wailing, “Paul!”

Paul smiled a bit and rolled his eyes. Louis knew he was happy to see them again after their brief time apart after the tour.

“You know you’re definitely what I miss most the tour aside from the performing part,” Louis said graciously, clasping a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I’m real honored,” Paul answered, brushing Louis’ hand away, “But you need to head over to the managers, I think your sound check starts soon.”

“Ah, classic Higgins, always looking out for us. We love you big guy!” Louis called out as he was dragged along with the other four to the managers.

“Amanda, Sarah,” Liam greeted both women with little bows of his head.

“Nice to see all five of you boys.” This was Amanda.

“You as well,” Niall answered.

“Alright, boys let’s head over to hair and makeup,” Amanda said, bobbing her head in the direction they were about to walk in.

This is where they met up with Lou Teasdale but no Lux, which Louis knew just slightly worsened Harry’s mood. The boy needed a baby.

They got their hair and makeup done in maybe 40 minutes, give or take. Then they walked back to Sarah and Amanda.

“Well, since no one else is using the stage I guess that must mean it is your turn for sound check. Head on out, you have two minutes, your bands already been set up for five.” This was Sarah.

They all smiled (Louis saluted) and moved out to the stage, grabbing their microphones on the way.

The sound check went without a hitch, as it usually did, especially during these shorter performances. They were in and out in less than 30 minutes.

Once they were finished, they hustled back to Amanda and Sarah.

“Alright, two fans won a meet and greet so Paul will show you where that’s happening in about 20 minutes. Nice sound check,” Amanda told them with a smile.

The five habitually smiled back, and moved to get to their own devices.

Louis bounded over to Harry when he saw he was taking off in his own direction.

“You did a very good job at sound check,” Louis announced from behind him, considering leaping to kiss his cheek. _Nah. Too risky._

“Well you got chirpy,” Harry laughed as Louis bounced around him.

“Dunno if chirpy is the word for. I’m just feeling pumped.”

“Well I’m glad you’re so excited. I don’t know how you always get this second wind before shows, still.”

“Yeah you do, you know how different each show is,” Louis assured him. “Now I just wanna ask where the hell are we walking?”

“I wanna watch this,” Harry explained as he pointed to the stage. Meghan Trainor was about to do her sound check. “If you didn’t know where I was going, why’d you follow? Don’t you have some mischievous agenda of your own to get to?”

Louis stood there with fake shock. “Well! Try to spend a little bit more quality time with my boyfriend and this is what I get in return.”

“Sorry, you just always take off during public events, m’used to it. Glad you’re here, though.” Harry smiled widely and kissed his cheek stealthily. God forbid Amanda or Sarah sees.

They listened to Meghan sing some songs from her EP neither of them knew, but they did a little dance when she started _All About That Bass._ Then Louis went and completely changed the mood when he got on his tiptoes and casually muttered to Harry, “I know one boy who likes a little more booty to hold at night.”

Harry turned around, flushed. “Fuck you.”

“I’m going to walk away now and I know you’re going to stare at it,” Louis retorted, enjoying Harry’s embarrassment.

As he walked, swaying his hips with each step, he looked for something else to do. He soon found himself amidst a group of back-up singers. He never got a chance to ask _who_ they were backing up, but they were good conversationalists. They understood what it was like to be a singer during long tours and struggled from some of the same issues Louis did, but he didn’t feel pressured to put on a show like he did when conversing with an artist.

“Man, I hope not all back-up singers are as cool as you guys because, you know, the whole boy band thing,” Louis joked. Then Zayn approached.

“I’m sorry we’re such a burden but I’m sure you’d be a lovely addition if the four of you were to form a girl group!”

The girls laughed, Louis did not. He didn’t say anything to Zayn, though, he’d embarrassed him way more times than he could count, he probably deserved a little torment.

“Now, we’ve gotta go,” Zayn insisted, pulling Louis towards him. “Bye ladies.”

They heard the three “bye”s as they walked away. Paul was waiting at what felt like the point furthest away from where the girls were stationed.

“Alright, boys, meet and greet time! We’re—”

“Question,” Louis interrupted. “You said these girls won the passes. Do we know how?”

Paul paused, looking confused.

“You see, we can measure the amount of effort and devotion they gave to this contest, and indirectly to us, if we know how they won. If it was one of those ‘call the radio station at this time to win’ then it’s a toss up, but for the most part this technique definitely helps in telling how much these girls deserved the tickets.”

The other four all nodded.

“We’ve discussed it.”

“Clearly,” Paul grunted. “Well sorry but I can’t help you anyway. Now let’s go before you’re late.”

They all followed Paul, dashing ahead of him and then pulling back, because they had no clue where they were going. _New venues. Always a good time._

Eventually they did arrive into a room of two girls, looking about 17.

 _They’re not twelve!_ Louis thought happily, strolling into the room.

There was a blonde and a brunette. The brunette was taller, slightly, with a slim, but not stick thin figure, brown eyes, and a rather pretty face. The blonde wore her hair in a huge bun, with a few curly pieces falling down in all the right places. She had big green eyes and a very pretty face. She was trying to contain a freak out, this was clear, and her brunette friend was helping with a tight hold on her forearm.

“Hey, girls!” Niall said with a smile, probably praying one was over eighteen (probably the blonde).

“Hi!” the blonde responded a bit too perkily.

Brunette released her friend’s arm. “Hey guys.” She had a cute smile.

“Hello!” Harry answered, walking up to her to give her a hug as Niall did the same for blondie. As he pulled back he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Claire.” The name suited her nicely.

“I’m Michelle,” blondie said as Harry moved to hug her.

“And I hope it’s okay to assume you know our names?” Niall teased.

The girls nodded vigorously. “Good, we haven’t had a meet and greet where the fans didn’t know our names since that one crazy day in Romania.” Louis shuddered. “ _Romanians_.”

The girls laughed as Liam remarked, “We’re not even sure what’s coming out of his mouth half the time anymore.”

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Harry added, shooting a little wink in Louis’ direction.

Louis waited behind Zayn in the line to hug the girls.

Once that was over, they got on to the picture portion of the meet and greet. For Louis, this could either be the greatest part, or the worst.

“Alright, what would you like for us to do? This is your picture,” Liam told them, as he tells every group during meet and greets. Both Louis and Harry prayed neither would have to do anything too physical, as both were sore from the night before.

Both girls smiled widely.

“Okay, so, after so many ideas were thought of, in the end we decided to keep it simple,” Claire started.

“So,” Michelle let out the short word before turning to Zayn.

“Oh, crap,” he sighed. Everyone laughed.

“Could you please maybe just pick me up like… this way?” she positioned her arms to demonstrate, putting her arms to her side and then bending her elbows to make two “U”s with her arms.

“Oh, like this?” He ran over and picked her up in that way, causing her to giggle insanely. In a cute way, though.

Claire then turned to Harry.

She opened her mouth but before she could say anything he asked, “So I’m doing the same, then?”

“Yes, please,” Claire answered, with a weird little smile that could almost be a smirk, but wasn’t quite one.

Harry picked her up and walked her over to where the background was set up, while she thanked him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Louis frowned, _he hurt his back, though, and I should say something because he will not._

Harry put her down, a smile still plastered on to his face. Louis tapped his arm and nodded for him to walk away from the girls for a moment.

Harry followed and gave Louis a “what’s up?” look.

“Is your back okay for this? I don’t want you to like, pull something,” Louis said in a low voice.

Harry smiled sheepishly. “I’m- I’m alright, don’t worry about it. She’s pretty light and I can’t be holding her for _that_ long.”

“Alright, but if you want me to—”

“No, don’t do anything. This is their picture, I’ll just suck it up,” Harry assured him with a smile and walked away.

Louis continued to frown as he overheard the two girls ask Harry if everything was alright. And then Harry told them Louis was just a bit worried about his back, is all. The girls seemed to think it was just about the sweetest thing they’d ever heard.

“Alright, let’s get this picture!” Louis announced, jumping over to the background.

“Yeah!” Michelle responded, which ultimately helped in getting everyone as excited.

“Um, Louis, could you go in between Claire and me?” Michelle asked, wrapping her arms around Zayn in preparation for when he lifted her.

Louis nodded, “’Course,” and smiled at her.

Harry and Zayn picked up their girl and Louis yelled, “Everybody smile!” as the photographer snapped a few pictures.

The girls giggled as everyone dispersed from the set up. Louis smiled because the girls’ happiness made Harry really happy. _I love how much he cares about the fans._ Louis had had this thought maybe a million times, but still it was amazing to watch Harry connect with fans.

“Alright, anything else you’d like to say to us before we take off? We’ve got a little time,” Niall said, his gaze really just on Michelle.

Michelle and Claire exchanged unsure glances.

“Um, yeah,” Claire decided, looking at Harry, then Louis.

Harry and Louis, in change, exchanged unsure glances.

The girls walked over to the two of them, because whatever they had to say couldn’t be said in front of everyone, apparently.

Once Claire and Michelle decided they had reached a spot that was safe, Claire began to speak. “Okay, we’re sorry if we’re way out of bounds here.”

“We just wanted to ask, about you two,” Michelle cut in. “Are you two, like, actually together?”

Harry sighed, while Louis drew in a sharp breath. He had just seen Amanda enter the room. _Alright, you can prove you can be trusted and they’ll lay off. That’s what Harry wants,_ Louis thought. He then proceeded to hiss, “ _Together_?”

“Okay, yeah, you’re not, I’m sorry,” Claire rushed to say.

 _Amanda’s still watching._ “You should be! God, even if we were you people have no respect for anyone’s personal life do you? Jesus, what’s wrong with you? No, we’re not ‘together’; you really think we’re _gay_? And, better yet, gay for _each other_?”

It was at this point Harry’s eyes softened and he frowned. He walked away.

Meanwhile, Louis continued to scoff, “This is ridiculous! Does my girlfriend just not exist, and the same with the girls Harry’s been with? Don’t you people have any common sense, my God? When are you all going to accept ‘Larry’ really is bullshit?”

Claire bit down hard on her bottom lip as Michelle repeatedly insisted they were truly sorry and they realized they shouldn’t have asked. Louis noted Amanda had grinned, gave a slight nod of the head, and left.

Once he was finished they both walked away, Niall wrapped an arm around Michelle, apologizing for Louis because he usually wasn’t this nasty when the topic came up. Claire, on the other hand, walked over to Harry.

“I’m really sorry if we upset you, I promise that was the absolute last thing we would ever want to do. Really.”

Harry muttered, “’T’s alright, I’m sorry Louis snapped at you.”

“I guess it’s not his fault; those, clearly false, rumors could easily get to anyone.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, slightly shocked at how well she was taking this. He leaned in to give her another hug. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course. And, just so you know, if there is any big secret you think you shouldn’t tell for the sake of the band and money and shit, just know that your fans will support you, and the rest of guys. No matter what.”

Louis rolled his eyes. He had seen Harry during the days that he was getting abundant amounts of random hate; Harry would definitely see more days like that if they came out as opposed to this support Claire promised. And she wouldn’t have to see Harry hurt and help him through it, Louis would.

Just then, Sarah popped her head into the door. “Hey guys! All finished up here?”

She was met by a series of the word “yeah”, sung in a melancholy tone.

“Great! Because that’s just about all the time these busy, busy boys have. So, say your goodbyes now.” Then she was gone.

“Is she always that bitchy?” Michelle murmured, not trying to be heard. She was, though, and was also met with a series of the word “yeah”. “Well that must suck.”

“Just a little. You get used to it,” Zayn explained.

It was just then Louis realized while Niall was fawning over Michelle, Michelle was acting the same towards Zayn. _Love triangle._

“Alright, well, we should probably listen to her, though,” Liam said.

Claire pulled her lips into a thin line. “Damn. This was fun.”

“Agreed,” Harry smiled, giving her another hug, as she was still standing right next to him. “Bye, Claire.”

“Bye, Harry,” she giggled, mocking his pouty tone.

This set off a string of goodbye hugs, none of which involved Louis. Then, once the girls had each hugged the other four boys, they turned to him. Claire opened her arms warily.

“Yeah, fine,” Louis decided, accepting the hug.

“Sorry about asking such a stupid question,” Michelle said.

“No hard feelings. I’m just tired of people asking. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” the girls both said.

“Good,” Louis said with a little smile.

“Bye girls!” Niall called as they began to walk out of the room. The two girls yelled “bye” back.

Once they had fully exited the room Zayn smacked Louis’ arm. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Louis replied innocently.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what.”

Louis changed his face so he appeared confused.

Zayn stared at him, shook his head, then finally yelled, “Why’d you yell at those girls? They seemed cool, and normally you tell people you think are trustworthy, as they seemed to be, the truth!”

“Zayn, it’s not his fault,” Amanda cut in. They hadn’t realized they’d reached her and Sarah. “I asked him to be less open with fans, and he was just doing what’s best for his, and your career.”

“Yeah, Zayn,” Louis sneered jokingly.

“Alright, whatever. But seriously, did you have to yell at the girls?”

“I think he did an excellent job handling the situation,” Amanda smirked.

“He’s gonna scare off the fans that want to meet us, though,” Niall whined.

“Niall’s right, you took it too far,” Liam commented.

“Alright, alright! I’ll take it down a notch next time. I just wanted to get across the message that as far as anyone’s concerned, Harry and I are not together.”

“Good, now that that’s settled, here’s the schedule for the rest of the day,” Sarah began.

Harry said nothing.

 

The boys had a last minute promo that Sarah decided they needed to do because, “no one needs _that_ much free time; we might as well take advantage of this hour and a half we have together!”

Luckily it was still short enough to leave them with some free time before the show.

They each went about their business; Louis stuck to Zayn and went around meeting people with him. (That is, with the exception of Meghan Trainor who was too wrapped up in a discussion with Harry, probably about body image, when they tried to approach her.)

Soon, though, the show began. Louis didn’t pay much attention to who opened, he just remembered the radio host. This man was easily the most stereotypical, generic radio host he’d ever heard, but at least he was friendly in person.

The time Louis spent backstage kind of became a blur at that point, as the adrenaline was busying him as it coursed through him and numbed the inhibitions he used to have before performing and buzzed around his ears whispering “a show a show a show” over and over.

Louis smiled as their performance approached rapidly. It was a short stretch of time between the moments the show started and they were on deck, the five waiting excitedly backstage with their mics in hand. It was an even shorter stretch between that moment and the moment they were welcomed by thousands of screaming fans as they strolled out onto the stage.

The stream of consciousness running through Louis’ brain went something like this: _Okay we’ve got four songs today we’re starting with, um, shit what’s the name of that song? Story of my Life, right. Oh shit Harry has his fucking solo and he always has to claw his way up to those high notes and his voice gets all raspy. But I’m prepared for it this time, I am. Wait, fuck. I wasn’t prepared for that; that was better than any other show what the fuck. At least I got that harmony. I love my part in this song this is a good song. Oh, solo’s coming up. Oh, solo’s finished. Oh shit not again Harry. How does he always sound so good during that song? Okay, It’s over now. Next is Ready to Run, good. This is a good song. God, I’m so excited to sing this album live. Okay the song started. Fuck Harry don’t look at me stop that. Oh God this is worse than Story of my Life already. Okay chorus one. This song was so fun to write; fuck it’s me. Don’t look at Harry when you say ‘we’ll be alright’, don’t do it. Okay, now it’s just Zayn, another chorus, and it’s done. Oh shit I forgot about Harry’s solo. Fuck. Oh fuck he sounded_ good.

Once they did get through Ready to Run, Liam gave his little appreciation speech. This gave Louis a chance to regroup (and tell Harry he’s sounding really good tonight, maybe they should take that back home).

And then they had to start singing again.

 _Okay this song; this song is Steal my Girl. The music for this is so good it deserves better lyrics. God, feels good to get that off my chest. Oh fuck the chorus. Okay, we’re good you sang. Fuck Harry still sounds so_ fucking _good. Even singing these lyrics that sound ridiculous coming from his mouth. God, Liam is so_ straight _. Oh, my turn. Oh fuuuuck the bridge. He sounds so good in this, his voice sounds so gentle. Fuck how did I land him? Now please stop saying “she” God what I would do for Harry to be this possessive over me. Oh, fuck stop singing the song’s over. Okay, now it’s um, Night Changes. Right. Fuck why did we keep letting Harry do the choruses, like, alone? God, I love the lyrics to this song. Oh shit he can’t keep glancing at me. Okay my solo. Okay done. Seriously can Zayn be louder it’s like all Harry during the solo fuck this is actually fucking painful. God I love his voice. Oh my god his voice sounds so_ fucking _good. Oh fuck his raspy little voice when he says “me and you”. Wait the songs over. Oh good we’re done!_

Louis then bounded off the stage with the rest of the boys, waving as he walked.

“Good job, lads!” he yelled, walking in sync with them. “We can leave now, right?”

“Yep, and good job, really,” Amanda cut in. _When did she show up?_

They walked, chattering amongst the five of them, back to the VIP Parking Lot. God, it’d been ages since Louis thought about this freakin’ parking lot.

“Glad to be out of there,” Zayn muttered once they were on the highway. He was probably talking more about the parking lot than the venue. Louis hoped so, anyway.

“This was a short ride, right? Honest to God I can’t remember,” Niall snickered.

“Yeah, it was,” Liam answered.

“Good,” said Niall.

Meanwhile Louis was doing his best to position himself in a way that wasn’t too uncomfortable but would allow him to lean over Harry, who was turned to the window, watching the buildings roll by. _Thank god we got the back._

“You sounded so fucking good tonight. One of my favorite show now, I think,” he whispered over Harry’s shoulder.

“You mentioned that earlier. What happened to being overly cautious?” Harry muttered sarcastically.

Louis chuckled, “You should know that I can’t think straight when you sound like you did tonight, if you didn’t already.” He placed his left hand on Harry’s and began to make little circles with his thumb.

“Well, maybe you’ll want to try harder.” Harry pulled his hand away.

Louis pulled his eyebrows together. “Babe, you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Harry, tell me what’s wrong,” Louis said, no longer keeping his voice down.

Despite being one of the most famous singers in the world, Harry still got flustered when the other three turned around to look at him with concern in their eyes. “I’m just, a bit tired, s’all.”

The other turned around, having the common decency to know that they shouldn’t get involved.

“Louis, I don’t feel like doing this now,” Harry groaned.

Louis pulled his entire torso back now. “Um, that’s okay. I get it, after last night you’re not feeling up to it.”

“ _Gross,_ ” Zayn sang.

“Fuck off, Zayn,” Louis snapped. He tucked a strand of long hair behind one of Harry’s ears only to be rejected again.

“I _don’t feel like doing this._ I mean it, Louis,” Harry rasped, making his voice low and gravely and deep, as he always did when he wanted to be taken seriously.

Louis moved away from Harry.

 

After being dropped off at his apartment, Louis decided to take some time to think. Why did Harry get so cranky? Was it his fault? He didn’t see anyway it could be, so what else could be eating at him?

Was it something he had done? No, it couldn’t be, he and Harry were having such a good day. It lacked sex, but Harry wouldn’t get this upset about that. And he got touchy after the show. Was it something that happened during the show? Some sign Louis hadn’t seen maybe? Oh, fuck, what if it was before the show? Maybe in that time after the promo, had Harry talked to anyone while Louis wasn’t around that put him in that mood? Crap, that must be it. The last time Harry got like this he was called something by the press, was there something going on online? Louis checked.

No, nothing happening online, except, wait was that a picture of Harry? From tonight? _Oh, shit, he went out?_ Louis didn’t trust a large amount of people Harry did, so many of them took advantage of him. Harry was definitely too friendly for his own sake sometimes. And Louis hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those times seeing as he did not know any of the people Harry was photographed with.

Okay, now Louis was off topic. It didn’t matter how Harry was coping, the problem was Harry _had_ something to cope with. God, what was upsetting him? It must’ve happened after the promo. Maybe Amanda said something to him about not saying anything when the girls brought up “Larry” at the meet and greet. Louis bet she did, because he was pissy about Louis getting close to him, it had to be something like that. It had to be.

Louis decided this had to be true, and then decided he should address it. He didn’t like seeing Harry unhappy, and considered it his job to fix it whenever Harry was. So he figured he should stop it immediately. He would go over at around 12:30. Even when he was having the greatest time of his life, Harry was infamously known for always “turning in early”. Sometimes it was cute, others it was just fucking annoying.

In this situation it was just convenient, because Louis knew Harry would be home before one. So Louis hung out around his flat, going on twitter and watching some bad TV before heading over to Harry’s at around 12:20.

He slipped in through the back entrance of the building and used his spare key to get in. Harry wasn’t home yet.

Louis didn’t think much of it. It was only 12:40; he’d be home soon.

So Louis, again, went on twitter and watched some bad TV, occasionally checking the time. After finishing his second episode of _Grey’s Anatomy_ , he realized it was just about 2 am.

_Where is he?_

Louis decided not to dwell on Harry’s absence. He would be home soon. Of course he would.

He continued watching this _Grey’s Anatomy_ marathon and eventually fell asleep on Harry’s couch.

 

Louis was abruptly awakened with a hard _thud_ as another body fell on his.

“Oi!” he grunted, trying to push the body off.

“Oh shit!” the person inside the body yelled. Then he laughed. “Sorry, mate, didn’t even see you there.”

“Harry,” Louis began, now fully sat up. “Harry, it’s almost 4 where the hell were you?”

“Jesus, sorry Mum, forgot about my curfew,” Harry snapped hostilely, kicking his shoes off and scratching his head.

Louis’ nose wrinkled up. “Christ, Harry, have you been smoking?”

Harry giggled. “Yeah. Bought some weed from this lovely fellow selling outside that bar just ‘round the corner.” He tried to point around a corner.

Louis ran his hands over his thighs and furrowed his eyebrows. “When?”

Harry shrugged, “Like, midnight.”

“Harry, you still can’t be high your highs never lasted more than three hours,” he pointed out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had convinced Harry to try some with him once after an X-Factor Tour show, and then they made it a tradition. It only lasted till the end of the X-Factor Tour, though.

“Maybe I got some better quality shit!” Harry defended. Louis shot him a look. “Fine. Maybe I was pretending to be more, high than I am. But to be fair, I didn’t think it was actually you here.” He rubbed his red nose absentmindedly.

“Harry, what the fuck, I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” Louis yelled, standing now.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to do that.” Harry, at this point, was shrugging off his coat.

“But, you- you _always_ come home before one when you go out,” Louis argued, trying to explain himself after Harry had made that, admittedly, good point.

“Well, I needed some time tonight,” Harry whined. He then paused, and added, “Why do you always baby me? You need to stop viewing me that way.”

“Fine, whatever, but I knew you were upset—”

“Wow, way to go Sherlock, what set you off? The fact that I wouldn’t talk to you in the car or the fact that I, for once, turned down an opportunity to shag you?”

“Harry, stop that. And anyway you shouldn’t just smoke off your problems. Oh my god, did anyone see you?”

“Of course not, I’m not an idiot,” Harry groaned. “I smoked it at- at a friends’. And no, they weren’t smoking, he was my designated driver.” Harry informed Louis of this with mock pride.

Louis rolled his eyes. “This isn’t the point, I came over here to make sure you were okay. Which you’re clearly not.”

Harry took a moment, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before deciding how to phrase what he was about to say. “Louis, I know you. You know that. Don’t you think I know that because you see me as your little baby you would _immediately_ come here to console me?”

“Well, I guess,” Louis answered, not sure where Harry was going with this.

“So don’t you think I would’ve come home earlier if I wanted to talk it out with _you?_ Because, as I mentioned, I knew you would be here waiting to do just that.”

“Yeah, so why _weren’t_ you here?” Louis asked, not quite putting the pieces together.

“Fuck, Louis, I hate when you do this!” Harry was raising his voice now. Whenever this happened Louis was always shocked because he always seemed to forget Harry even knew how to do that. “You always assume, when I’m upset, there’s not _any_ sort of chance it’s your fault, you never take any responsibilities for what you do, especially what you do to other people.”

“So this is my fault?”

Harry nodded as if to say _obviously._

“How?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Louis, will you think about when you noticed I was upset?”

“Yeah, it was during the ride back, really.” Harry gave him a _no, but keep thinking_ look. “Jesus, Harry, will you cut the Socratic discussion shit and just tell me what’s wrong?”

“You, Louis, just like the other night, as much as you hate to hear it, the problem is you. But, you knew that and holy _shit_ you’re lucky I’m still just high enough to believe this is one of those moments you have in your head where you set yourself up for the perfect argument where you just lay everything out and admit what’s going on. Now, what’s wrong is that you yelled at those girls today.”

Harry paused just long enough for Louis to cut in. “Well, why didn’t you say—”

“No, I’m not even close to finished, and until I am, and I know how hard this may be for you, but you’re just gonna have to be silent.”

Harry was right; this would be hard for Louis. Not because he was so opinionated—okay, a little because he was so opinionated—but mostly because Harry really wasn’t totally off his high. And because of this, he spoke even slower than usual.

“Okay, so I’m mad that you yelled at, uh, Claire and Michelle today. That wasn’t fucking okay, but this actually started before that. When Amanda called, when I told you how you reacted to that, how that bothered me.”

_Fuck. Knew that one would bite me on the—_

“I told you that upset me! I did! I thought you kind of got what I was saying, but clearly you didn’t. Here’s what I was saying: I’m tired, Louis. I’m fucking tired of pretending we’re not what we are. That I’m not as in love with you as I am. Because I am, Louis, I’m so, so, fucking desperately in love with you. I love you. I love you so much. I love, love, love you. And I know you know that. I knew you knew that four years ago, and I know you know it today. And every single fucking day I just seem to fall more in love with you, and I don’t know how you do it, but I do. Honestly, if someone was to ask me what the most evident things are that I’ve experienced throughout my career as a singer in this band all I would be able to say is ocean blue but sometimes green and sometimes fucking purple eyes, and messy fringes, and sense of humor, and _ass._ But here’s the thing, Lou. I know you’re gonna blame our management on this, but over the past four years, you seem to be falling less and less in love with me.

“You seem to be just, going the extra mile every chance you get in denying that we’re together. I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re older and you take these types of things better, but you know that you’re older. You know you’ve got to accommodate me because I’m younger. And I guess, maybe, because I’m younger, I just, I can’t do it.”—his voice cracked, Louis wondered if he even noticed because he didn’t stop at all—“I can’t keep seeing you act like we’re not doing what we’re doing behind closed doors. It bothers me, Louis. I hate seeing you actually say, aloud, that we’re not together. You just, you look so convinced and I’m scared one day you’re just not going to want to have to worry about keeping this secret relationship and everything you keep saying because it’s what the media wants to hear or as a joke, is just going to become true. Like, fuck. When you first tweeted we were ‘bullshit’, like, two years ago, without having to be asked, that one _kinda_ stung, but I got over it without opening my mouth. Because it was you typing, it wasn’t _you_. But recently I keep hearing you say it out loud, and it scares me, oh my god it scares me. I hate seeing that side of you that can just pretend I’m the same to you as the other guys because I can’t do that! And you’re supposed to feel the same as I do and if you don’t then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do because I can’t lose you, I really can’t.”

It took Louis a few moments to realize he was allowed to speak, and once he realized that, he realized Harry was actually tearing up. _Shit, Harry, don’t do that._

“Hey, Harry,” Louis choked out, walking over to him. Once their two bodies were nearly touching, he stopped. “Hey, that’s not going to happen, Harry. It couldn’t, I love you so, so much more than you’re giving me credit for, I promise.”

It took Harry a minute to pick his now wet eyes up off his feet and meet Louis’. Right after this happened, Louis leaned in and kissed Harry. He put his hands on the back of Harry’s head, knotting his fingers in Harry’s hair and beginning to run his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip in order to deepen the kiss. Harry didn’t move.

Louis pulled back, confused. Why wouldn’t Harry kiss him?

“No, Louis,” Harry said, his voice tearful but fighting though it. “You can’t just try to smooth things over by fucking me. I know that’s where you wanted that kiss to go and that’s not gonna happen.”

“Whoa, Harry, I just wanted to tell you that you’re wrong about worrying about losing me, because it’s not gonna happen.”

“No, Louis, trust me, you were just trying to kiss it all better, like you _always_ do. You can never admit to anything bad you just change the topic or _literally_ kiss it away. Like, no matter how many times I tell you the whole being-closeted thing hurts me, you’ll never agree. And maybe it’s because you don’t agree, but you just told me you feel the same way as me about us, so that must mean you’re lying about something. You feel like you have to comfort me, and just tuck away however you’re feeling about the situation. You can’t just disregard anything negative going on, still, after 22 years that’s gotta be killing you.”

“Actually, Harry,” Louis said defensively, “it’s not. Life’s fine, and it has been since I decided to just avoid these bad things.”

“Louis, that’s not humanely possible. At some point it’s all going to come out and you, being as fucking prideful as you are, are gonna feel like an idiot. You’ve got to deal with how you feel, I hate that you still feel pressured to act like your life is perfect in front of me and the only concerns you have are for me. I know that’s not how you actually feel.”

“Yeah, it is, Harry, don’t you think if I was going to crack I would’ve done it by now? After four years of hearing this exact same thing from you, and my whole life hearing it from everybody else?”

“I don’t fucking know, Louis, maybe you already have but haven’t let me know you have because in front of me nothing’s _ever_ wrong, right?”

“No! Harry, trust me, I haven’t cracked because it’s not going to happen. And in front of you I’m too busy trying to be everything for you, when would I have a chance to tell you? I’m too busy trying really _fucking_ hard to be able to make you smile because fuck Harry, I don’t think you realize you’re smile is the only secure thing in my life right now and when I don’t have it what else do I have? So, no, I don’t tell you what’s wrong because troubling you with my problems would make you worry and I don’t want to be the reason for you not being happy, ever.” Louis heard his accent thicken slightly as it always did when he got riled up. _Shit._

“Well, Louis, you’re plan backfired. Because right now all I want from you is for you to be honest about how you feel about having to call us bullshit, over and over.”

“I couldn’t give a shit, because it makes you feel better because I can see how much you hate doing it and we both know one of us has to. I think that what I'm doing is better for you and your happiness than making you feel guilty about me choosing to be the one to tell the press what they want to hear about us.”

“Holy shit, Louis!” Harry yelled, finally moving. He placed his hands on the back of his head and walked to the right of Louis. “You’re really that stubborn. This is so fucking stupid, okay? Why the _fuck_ can’t you just admit this bothers you? Louis, I know you’ve taken your stance and want to stick by it but you told me you want to make me happy, so I won’t judge you if you decide to change your opinion on the matter based on what you know makes me happy or not.”

“Harry, I know what I said and I stand by what I’m doing. I believe that this is what’s best because the more I give them what they want the sooner they’ll give us what we want.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Harry snapped almost immediately. “You’re such a huge fucking hypocrite. I mean, you say you want to make me happy and then stick with the opinion you now know upsets me. You don't see that it just hurts me more that you think I'm not strong enough to help you deal with your problems and my own. Louis, we're in a relationship. If you never let me be the person to take some of that pressure off you, then I'm not sure I even know what I am to you. Not to mention, as you told me why you pretend you never have problems in front of me, you admitted some of your problems. You think I’m the only secure thing in your life, and you’re also afraid of losing me. It was starting, you breaking. It was. Because after four years, I think that’s the most you’ve ever told me about how you actually feel in one go. Do you realize that? And how sad that is? Four _years._ It’s so fucking sad. And not just for you. I get pieces of you, but I never feel like I know you as well as you know me, because you always assume I can just tell exactly what’s wrong with you just because you’re a little snippy that day. You’ve convinced yourself I can read you _that_ well, and sometimes I try to, but the difference is I know that it’s not true. I know that I actually don’t know who you are in the moment we’re in. And you can glare at me with your evil eyes and roll them as much as you like, I know you think you’re just hearing the same thing that you’ve heard a million times. But here’s the truth that both of us have been too afraid to admit until now: Louis, you never helped me know how to read you, and one day I think that might destroy us.”

He was right, of course. Louis had avoided that so well, though, hearing it aloud hit him really fucking hard. Neither wanted to hear it, but both knew it was true. And shit, it was scary, because for four years, Louis and Harry couldn’t find an issue big enough that it could actually break them up. After four years, it had just become too routine, how could it just end? Could couples even do that? Fuck, that's what it must be like to get a divorce after having kids and being married for way more years than Louis and Harry have been together. But, how could two people just one day decide that trying to love each other just wasn't worth the effort anymore?

“So, Louis, that’s why I needed some more time tonight. It’s late, so, just crash on the couch if you want,” Harry sighed tiredly. “Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis answered as Harry walked into his bedroom.

Louis’ eyes stung. Everything stung, come to think of it. Louis tried to convince himself it was just the weed talking, because Harry’s couldn’t really, deep down, want to tell all that to Louis, right?

Louis knew this was wrong. Harry was the type to get really in touch with himself when he was high, and if these weren’t his actually feelings Harry wouldn’t have said any of it.

Louis fell onto the couch, forcing himself to fall asleep.

 

__

 

 

            Louis’ legs shake sporadically, his arms, which hold his head, lean against it. Really, his whole body is shaking.

He moves his jaw right and left, allowing his top teeth to scrape away at the softness of his bottom lip.

His eyes twitch, attempting to follow the string of thoughts wandering through his mind. They all lead to one destination, though, and once he gets back to that spot he moves to another, hence the twitching.

In his head, Louis is trying to conjure up every mind-numbing thought he knows. He’s afraid to think too deeply. _I wonder how many people in here know who I am. Like how weird would it be for someone to just, like, ask for a picture with me? Oh God please don’t let that happen. Would I say no? But I don’t want to seem ungrateful for support. Crap. Well, it hasn’t happened, so why are you stressing out about it? God. Is that clock actually slowing down? How long have I even been in this fucking waiting room? Where the fuck are the boys? This sucks._

Louis frowns, which his neighbor takes notice of.

“Hey, I know this is a stupid question seeing as you’re in a hospital and all, but are you okay?”

Louis slowly turns his head to look at the blonde student to his left. He had forgotten the people around him were even able to acknowledge his presence. But, once Louis’ head has fully turned, she’s still looking up at him with genuine concern. Harry would eat her up.

“Um, no, actually. Things really haven’t been going well,” Louis mutters, trying to keep his voice down as if no one there was allowed to know this fact.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It usually helps to talk about what’s bothering you, so, what happened that brings you here?”

Louis chuckles bitterly, _wow, looks like everyone was clued in on this but me._ “Um, thanks, but, I, just… It’s really bad. And, like, just happened and—”

“No, no, no, I get it, too soon. Sorry for asking,” she apologizes. She’s surprisingly sweet. Louis was surprised she hadn’t pointed out what a shit job he was doing trying to not break down in tears again.

“No, it’s okay. If you don’t mind, could you maybe tell me what happened that brought you here? Maybe it’ll help.”

“Um, sure, but before I start that, I’m Carly,” she says, holding a hand out with perfectly manicured fingers.

“Louis.” He takes her hand.

“Oh, geez, you’re shaking!” she announces, holding his hand and taking her other one to rub the top of it. “I’m sorry, this must be, really bad.”

Louis laughs, and then Carly laughs. “Sorry, that must’ve sounded, so rude.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says. The salty tears had made his face stiff, so it feels strange to smile.

“Alright, my story,” she starts. “Well, I wish there was more to tell, but. I told you earlier I came here because my boyfriend got into a bar fight.”

 _Right, I_ totally _remember that…_

“Anyway, since I told you that already I’ll just, give you the full story. So, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. The first time, though, I made this huge deal about it and babied him and made sure he was safe all the time, because he got a concussion. So, he seemed like he was all right and it wouldn’t happen again. And then, it did. It was worse this time because he decided to be that tough guy who takes the fight outside, and all of the sudden, somebody pulls out a knife. He gets a nice gash in his arm, right about here,” she tells Louis, her voice surprisingly emotionless. She draws the gash in the middle of her upper arm and moves her finger about four inches before continuing. “So, I, again, nurse him back to health, but tell him he’s gotta stop letting his pride put him in these situations. So he says okay, and then it happens a third time. This time isn’t as bad as the second, but an injury’s an injury. This time I tell him he seriously needs to stop if he wants to keep me, because I really can’t keep dealing with his shit.”

“Naturally,” Louis responds, finally interested now in Carly.

“But, here we are with go number four. I didn’t want to come but this time I wasn’t there when the fight happened, I just got called, like, as soon as I got home from a night with my friends. But anyway I got called at just a quarter to six that he was here and in bad shape. The other times I was there when it happened. Actually the only reason it happened before was some douches were hitting on me and he got jealous. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“So, I have a question,” Louis comments as soon as she is done, wiping his eyes again.

“Go for it.”

“If this is the _fourth_ time this is happening, why don’t you just break it off with him as soon as you can? What are you doing here letting him know you still care?” Louis inquires, turning his body slightly more towards her.

“Well, really I just want to hear his reason for this fight. I want to know it’s for the same barbaric reason as the last three times.”

“Well, you could get that information from one of his friends after they figure it out, right?”

“I guess. I just, feel bad. None of his ‘friends’ would’ve gotten up at 6 on a Saturday to make sure he’s okay, and he doesn’t have any family down here. I guess,” she pauses and sighs, reassembling her thoughts. “I guess I like knowing that I am the person who he trusts to take care of him. I know it must sound weird or creepy, but I really love him, probably too much for my own good, and I just have convinced myself he can’t get on without me. Don’t worry, I know I’m crazy.”

“No, no, no, I totally get it. I’m the same with my boyfriend, actually,” Louis admits. He tries his hardest to ignore the sudden pounding in his head.

“Boyfriend?” She seems oddly surprised.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Oh please tell me I haven’t gotten this into your story just for you to throw it all away because you’re a _homophobe._ ”

“Oh, no, no!” she rushes to say. “You just, didn’t, er, you um, struck me as, well, I mean—”

Louis chuckles. “You thought I was straight, it’s okay to say.”

She blushes scarlet.

“Actually, I’m not sure I’m _gay_ , I’ve dated girls, too, but- wait this is totally besides the point.”

“Yeah, a little,” she giggles. “You were, um, you were saying you’re just as overprotective of your boyfriend as I am of mine.”

“Right, right,” Louis mumbles. “Hey, you can let my hand go if you want.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” she says, releasing his hand. “Glad you’re not shaking anymore.”

“Yeah, well thanks for helping,” he smiles a little, closed-mouth smile.

“No problem.”

“Just glad it stopped before you’re boyfriend saw. Wouldn’t him to see us holding hands,” Louis teases.

“Shut up!” she squeals, hitting his arm softly. Louis giggles.

“Seriously, though, despite only knowing him through your depiction, he sounds like he’s being a jerk. If he can’t respect a rule as straight forward as ‘don’t get in a bar fight’, what can he respect? If he’s causing you this much trouble, is he really worth it?” Louis asks, furrowing his eyebrows and leaning forward just slightly.

“I know he’s an ass sometimes, but, I dunno he’s got this weird hold on me I’m not even sure he knows he has. I just, I love him. That’s all there is to it, really. I just can’t picture myself without him, at least not right now. Do you, kinda get it?” she looks up at Louis with wide eyes.

“I really, really do, actually. How long have you two been together?”

“Almost eight months,” Carly tells him, happiness in her voice.

_Probably the best eight months of her life from the looks of it._

“And is he like, or, um, has he got like a much younger personality than you? If you understand that?” Louis snickers.

“I get it. And yeah, he does, actually. He’s always pushing me to do these crazy things I wouldn’t have thought to do on my own and everything just _always_ feels new and exciting.”

“Amazing,” Louis mutters, finally looking away from her. She gives him a curious look. “You just, your relationship sounds a lot like me and my boyfriend’s when we started dating.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

“We just passed four years over the summer.”

“Wow,” she whispers in awe. “You two must be really happy.”

Louis chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, well. We just, really love each other. That’s all I can really say about it.”

“So, four years. You think he’s ‘the one’?”

“Oh trust me, I know he’s the one,” Louis answers, quicker than he should have.

“So you think you see a wedding in your near future? Kids, maybe?”

_Oh shit, no, did not need that idea in my head right now._

Louis looks for a way around it. “I’m not sure the world’s really ready for that yet.”

“Well, forget about the world for a minute. Are you two ready?”

“Um.”

“Louis!”

A third voice cuts in—Liam’s.

“Oh, it’s about fucking time,” Louis murmurs. But when he sees Liam running towards him, all the emotions he felt in the moment when he called him come back to him. And all the work he had done to keep his mind occupied just become irrelevant compared to this pain living in his stomach.

He meets Liam at the halfway point of the waiting room where he basically falls into his arms, suddenly broken again. Liam knows not to say anything.

A few moments later the others stroll in, reacting basically the exact same way.

Once a group hug occurs, Louis hisses, “Seriously. It’s about fucking time everyone showed up.”

Only four boys stand in the middle of the waiting room.

 

 

__

 

 

Louis woke up this morning on his stomach with his right arm twisted in a probably dangerous way underneath him, confused, and alone.

After several attempts, Louis was able to keep his tired eyes open long enough to figure out where he is. The answer: Harry’s couch. It was just about 7:15 in the morning.

Once he put this together, the entirety of the fight comes rushing back to him; answering the question he wasn’t even able to ask “Why am I on the couch?”

He pushed himself up, the sting from last night coming back. He twisted around to look at the bedroom where he remembered Harry was. The door was closed.

Harry never closed his bedroom door.

Louis heart seemed to drop into the pit of his stomach. He and Harry had fought before, hell, they’d had that _exact_ argument about Louis not opening up, but this felt like the worst fight they’d ever had. Admittedly, Louis did think this after almost every fight, but this time he could explain why it was worse. This time he felt like their relationship was truly in jeopardy.

Louis couldn’t bear to think about this. He’d done so well only focusing on the positive for so long, he just didn’t _want_ to think about this. It was too early for such awful thoughts, anyway.

So, he readjusted his position and lay his head back down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.

_Wait. Harry doesn’t have blankets on his couches._

Louis didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before, but he had just become aware of the blanket on top of him. Then he smiled.

_He put a blanket on me._

With this in mind, he closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep. Unfortunately, it was not working for Louis. While he was usually good at falling asleep as soon as the opportunity to sleep arose, it just wasn’t happening. His thoughts were moving too quickly, making it too hard to let himself relax.

_C’mon, Louis, just, think of the ocean. Just listen to the tides crashing, just go back to sleep._

_I wonder if Harry uses that ocean trick whenever he can’t sleep. He taught it to you, after all. I wonder if he’s in there all curled up in that huge bed of his. What would he be dreaming about? I hope he’s dreaming of me. Oh, but what he’s dreaming of me in, like, a bad way? I hope he’s dreaming of something that makes him happy. Maybe he is. Maybe he was too high to even remember the fight._

_Dammit, Louis, the ocean, you were at the ocean. Go back there. Maybe a bird will fly by. Oh shit, is that Harry on my beach? He should have a place there; this is supposed to make me happy. But, he can’t be here today. Oh, fuck, do I kick him out? I don’t want to upset him more than I have in the real world. Oh, for Christ’s sake, Louis, this is an imaginary ocean in_ your _head. Just think of this ocean without Harry._

_Oh but now it seems lonely. Fuck._

Things continued this way for several more minutes. Louis physically squirmed, because suddenly every position was uncomfortable.

And then he heard a blaring beep.

His eyes popped open. He had positioned himself at that point so he was looking towards a clock. 7:30.

_Harry’s workout alarm._

After about twenty seconds of the beeping it stopped.

_Harry’s up._

Louis rolled on to his back, his mind suddenly totally blank aside from the overwhelming thought of _Harry_.

He lay there for much longer than he expected. It felt like thirty minutes, but when he finally turned back to glance at the clock, it was only three. He sat up. Maybe Harry wasn’t coming out of his room yet.

Of course, at that moment Louis heard a door swing open behind him. Footsteps followed that grew louder with each step.

Harry didn’t make it to the couch, however. Instead, he turned at the last second to the right, to the kitchen.

Louis sighed. “Morning, Harry.”

“Morning,” Harry mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Louis pushed himself up and padded over to the kitchen.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Harry commented, looking in a cupboard for food.

“How could I sleep through your ridiculous alarm?” Louis joked, forcing a smile.

“Sorry, guess I was too out of it to remember to turn it off last night,” Harry responded. He turned around and put a box of Cheerio’s on the table. “Don’t think I was too out of it to forget what I said last night. Kinda wish I was, but.” He looked at his feet as he spoke.

Louis looked at Harry’s bony feet, as well. He suddenly wanted to say, _Are your feet cold? Do you want me to run and grab you some socks? Make you some hot soup? Run you a steaming hot bath for the both of us? Build a fire for us to spend the day in front of cuddling?_

“I kinda wish that, too,” was all Louis admitted with a sad smile.

Harry kind of just _fell_ into the chair closest to him.

“I don’t have milk. Or other food, for that matter,” Harry told Louis, finally looking up. The color of his eyes seemed to have changed to a duller green overnight, and his nose was still slightly red. He was probably catching a cold from being out for so long last night. He just looked much, much sadder than a person who just ran out of milk should be.

“Oh, right. I’ll run to a store—”

“No, I don’t want you to be seen leaving here in yesterday’s clothes. I’ll go,” Harry decided. His voice was hollow, empty.

“Oh. Okay,” Louis murmured, backing out of Harry’s way as Harry moved swiftly back to his room. He returned to the common area within two minutes.

“Hey, you should grab a jacket, or something, it’s probably still cold out.”

Harry grinned just enough for Louis to notice it (actually, just enough for Louis to see a dimple for just a small moment). Despite only wearing a thin long sleeve shirt, he decided to grab the beanie on the table next to the couch, instead. “Thanks, Louis,” Harry said, putting it on as he walked out of the door. It was not even 7:40.

Once he heard the door close behind Harry, Louis grimaced. “Fuck.”

He moved back to his place on the couch, deciding his best option here was to watch TV to distract himself. He shouldn’t overanalyze the situation, and knew he would if his mind wasn’t occupied.

So he flicked through the channels and settled on some cooking show. Originally it was because he thought, _maybe I can conjure up some grand romantic gesture and cook something for Harry._ He liked the idea, but it escaped his mind as soon as he saw prepared food. Turns out, he was hungrier than he thought.

He was watching, and nearly drooling, for just over 35 minutes, when his phone began to ring. The rings snapped him out of his hunger-induced trance, and he realized, _Harry’s been out for a while. Maybe this is him calling to say he’s hopelessly lost even in as simple a task as buying milk and we should never ever fight again and obviously never break up._

His caller ID told him otherwise.

Louis answered the unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Louis Tomlinson? You’re listed here as Harry Styles’ emergency contact?” a woman asked.

“Yes, that all sounds right. Has something happened?”

“I’m afraid so. Mr. Tomlinson, there’s been an accident. A truck drove into Harry’s car just about twelve minutes ago. He’s here at Royal London Hospital’s trauma center, now, but in critical condition.”

Louis felt the insides of his body all just melt together and fall to the soles of his shoes. His lungs seemed to have collapsed on themselves as well and breathing became difficult. His back of his eyes began to ache and he heart most certainly stopped, at least for a minute. The sting from before became more of a pins-and-needles type feeling as the entire exterior of his body began to go numb. Every single muscle seemed to stiffen.

_Harry might die._

“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

He slowly moved the phone away from his face, not sure if he had just hung up on the woman or not.

For a moment, he stood there. He felt hot tears begin to line the bottom of his eyes and his jaw clenched.

_Harry might die._

This thought was followed by, _Louis, move!_

Luckily, he listened to this voice in his head and probably got his shoes and coat on faster than he ever had before. He ran, nearly sprinted, all the way out of the building and to his car, trying to figure out the most efficient way to the hospital.

_Who gives a shit it’s 8:15 on a Saturday morning how bad could traffic be?_

He ended up just moving, without a plan. He just needed to, for the moment, not think, just know he was headed somewhere.

He arrived at the hospital in six minutes, which could easily be considered as record speed, in Louis’ mind, anyway. Now he was sprinting to get from his car to get into the hospital. _They said he was in critical condition. He would be in the ICU. I guess._

Louis pushed a heavy glass door open and continued to run. He tuned out the man behind a desk telling him to stop, and that he was supposed to tell him where he was going or stay there in the waiting room.

A woman in scrubs graciously held the lift door open for him, though. Once they closed he whispered, “what level is the ICU on?” in a hoarse voice, stumbling over words. His mind seemed to be spinning too quickly—his mouth couldn’t keep up.

“That would be floor three, let me get that,” she offered. Louis smiled to say _thanks for not thinking I’m crazy._

Louis restrained himself from pacing in a circle despite how badly he was tempted too. It felt like it was the first time he was completely still since he got the phone call—aside from the involuntarily shaking of his hands. He held them behind his back, trying to keep them under control.

He arrived on his floor before the doctor did so he just nodded at her as he swiftly walked out of the lift. He let go of his quivering hands and shook them by his sides, running again to a woman behind a desk.

“Excuse me, m’here to see Harry Styles, he was just in—”

Louis stopped abruptly when the woman held up her index finger. “Sir, let me check on the computer and I’ll let you know what bed he’s in in just a moment,” she said, using a rude tone. Louis almost growled.

He decided to just let her check her little computer for Harry’s bed, though. After about 40 seconds of finger tapping, Louis started bouncing between the balls his left and right foot, shaking his hands again. The longer he stood there, the more tears seemed to pool in his eyes. _Oh please don’t cry, at least not yet._

Once another minute, maybe, had gone by Louis started to gnaw at the inside of his cheek. _If I did start crying who would see me?_

He looked around him. There were only a few nurses to his right, and to his left were the patient beds. There were also _one, two, three, four,_ five doctors; one was uttering something along the lines of, “We thought he was stable, he was holding up fine in the ambulance, but we’ve got to move him to surgery before he tries dying on us again—he’s already crashed twice. I ordered a—” and then a string of sciencey words Louis couldn’t remember if he tried. Two doctors began to move someone onto one of those blanketed hospital stretchers and pull it out, so it would be easier to turn.

“Sir, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, thank you,” Louis told her absentmindedly, already walking towards the doctors. Again, he tuned out some yelling he was pretty sure was being directed at him.

_This isn’t him this isn’t him this isn’t him._

Louis made it to the huddle and positioned himself so he could see the full body of the patient they were wheeling away.

_No no no no no no no no._

Louis blinked several times as he moved with team of the doctors, examining his body.

He looked like he was barely breathing; Louis watched his chest move but it looked like it pained him to do just that. He was covered in bruises. These weren’t just purple bruises, but those truly painful bruises where the skin around the purple was that sickly yellow. Scattered over his body, there were some smaller scratches, and some that looked more like gashes. Blood had dried in his hair, although they did a decent job cleaning up the rest his body.

“Hey, you can’t be back here!” someone barked at him suddenly from the group of doctors.

Louis’ eyes shot up. As he looked at the group like a deer in headlights, he finally became aware that as he looked at this mess of what was left of Harry, he had started _bawling._

“No, please, you don’t understand, he’s m’boyfriend, please let me stay with him!” Louis cried, moving his location in the group to a spot more accessible to Harry’s hand. He grabbed at it through two doctors.

“I’m sorry but you really can’t be back here, you have to leave,” the man pulling Harry’s stretcher told him sternly.

Louis grabbed Harry’s hand successfully. _Got him_. “I- I can’t, please let me stay with him, he needs me, please, trust me,” Louis hiccupped. “Oh, God, I did this to him! Harry, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, stopping for a moment. “’t should’ve been me.”

A tall doctor who was across from Louis walked over to his side of the stretcher. He and a man who was already next to Louis each took one of his arms. “Sir, you can’t go any farther.”

Harry’s hand was pulled away from Louis as the stretcher continued moving without him.

“No, I have to go with him!” Louis yelled, squirming as he tried to break free. “Please, please let me go!”

They did, once the stretcher was through doors you could only enter by putting in a passcode on a keypad next to them.

Louis ran up to the window in one of the doors and slammed his hands on the door, screaming out one big slur of swears and “bring him back to me” and “let me through” and “it should’ve been me” and “you don’t understand”.

Meanwhile, he was being pulled back by these same two fuckingdoctors. He didn’t let them take him until he had tired himself out and he couldn’t fight them any longer.

As they moved Louis realized how ridiculous the situation was. _Two fucking doctors had to stop doing their jobs to escort you out. Christ._

Somehow this made him feel he should stop crying on them. So he started to hiccup, stifling sobs and sniffling as he swallowed down his tears. They reached the waiting room he was clearly supposed to have waited in.

Louis’ eyes stung as he tried to blink away any more tears. “I would’ve fucking left on my own!” he cries as he struggles to break free of these two fit men in scrubs. “Eventually,” he added, under his breath.


	2. if i had only felt the warmth within your touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, chapter name is from turning page by sleeping at last, and this is probably the longest chapter so i hope it's not too difficult to get through

Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall have to relocate in the waiting room so they can have seats next to each other. Liam insists Louis sits in the middle, the other two are quick to agree.

“So, Lou,” Zayn starts softly. “You think you’re, like, ready to tell us what happened?”

Louis has had a lot of trouble _not_ crying since the boys showed up somehow, so it takes him a moment to collect himself before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, just, give me a little time to get it all out.”

“Course,” Niall answers, his face completely focused on his concern for Louis and his wellbeing.

Louis sniffles a bit and pulls his knees to his chest, holding them there. He closes his eyes and let the last few tears drip down off his eyelashes, deciding where this abridged version of the story should start.

“Okay,” he finally says, opening his eyes and looking left, then right. “Well, it really started last night. Me and- me and—” Louis stops, hiccupping as he thinks about finally saying his name out loud. It’s funny, really, every single pore on his being seems to be screaming _HarryHarryHarry_ but when it came down to it he couldn’t even utter out the little word.

“You and Harry,” Liam helps, prompting him to go on.

“Right. Right.” Louis looks down, trying to figure out where he left off, feeling dumb for not being able to remember.

_Could crying actually do that?_

_Whatever_.

“Right. We, we had this fight. Like, really awful, would’ve sent both of us into a depression fight, not like the stupid little ones we usually have, y’know? So, anyway, I ended up crashing on the couch and this morning we’re both up at 7:30 because of Harry’s _fucking_ alarm clock and because I was up he wanted to give me breakfast but didn’t have milk for his cereal and I knew he was looking for an escape because things were really way more awkward than they’ve ever been that way between the two of us and he left and then.” Louis stops to inhale a long breath of air. He feels the three sets of eyes on him and he looks down again. “And then, about 30 minutes ago, I get a phone call.” Louis squeezes his eyes and tries to hold it together. He gasps for a breath to say, “They called and tell me there’s been an accident and Ha- _his_ car got hit by a truck and he’s here in critical condition.”

Louis can feel the other three’s expressions shift as they process this.

Zayn is the first to move for a long time. He throws his arms around Louis in a hug meant to say _I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you and I’m not even going to pretend what I feel is anywhere near as bad as what you feel and I am here for you._ Louis has always had a knack for reading Zayn.

Louis accepts the hug, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder. He begins to cry again, and then he begins to replay the moments from after he received the news, finishing the story he had told. He sees Harry’s body again. And he begins to bawl again.

They sit like this for a long time. Probably longer than either is expecting, and probably too long for Zayn to be comfortable. But he doesn’t say anything. When Louis finally moves, he just switches sides to Liam, who had been waiting for his turn to support Louis. Louis grabs on to Liam tight, and keeps his arms squeezed around him.

And Louis hates it. He hates every single second of it. He hates he needs to be supported. He isn’t the helped, he is the helper. It’s just how thing always are. But he decides to just shut up and accept the support. Maybe if Harry’s having one of those out of body experiences he’ll see Louis is showing his emotions and not tucking them away and this will prompt him to come back to them sooner.

After Louis guesses he’s been sat with the boys for a solid 20 minutes, he decides this probably isn’t going to happen.

Louis’ chest starts to ache again as if something is pressing hard on it. Call it a premonition, because once this happens, a doctor walks out calling for a, “Mr. Tomlinson.”

“’T’s me,” Louis chokes out, but has to repeat himself because he was not actually audible the first time. Once the doctor makes eye contact with him Louis plants his feet back on the floor and tries to push himself up. It doesn’t quite work, though, because after sitting with his legs tucked in for so long they’ve gone numb. The doctor tries to run up but Liam catches him faster. He’s then handed off to Niall, who had volunteered to help walk him over to the doctor. _God, I can’t even walk on my own. But, what if it’s, bad news? How the hell am I supposed to survive on my own?_

_Don’t think like that._

Louis bites down hard on his bottom lip as he and Niall finally reach the doctor.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the doctor begins.

“Louis, please you can call me Louis.”

“Alright, Louis,” the doctor corrects. He stops for enough time for Louis to cut in again.

“Okay, please, please tell me good news you can’t tell me he didn’t make it you can’t please,” Louis slurs out before the doctor can go on. Niall shoots the doctor a look to apologize on Louis’ behalf. The doctor sends back a look of acceptance.

“Louis, Harry made it through his surgery and is stable.”

“Oh thank God.” Louis didn’t realize it but he had been holding his breath. He breathes hard now, though, because although Harry’s alive, he can _tell_ this doctor isn’t done.

“You’re very fortunate, you’ve got yourself a fighter,” the doctor tries to lighten the mood with a little smile. Louis’ expression doesn’t change, though he proudly thinks, _I know._

“But, it’s been over an hour since Harry’s surgery and he still hasn’t woken up yet. We’re going to monitor him carefully, because at this stage he could easy wake right up.” The doctor pauses again to give Louis time to react. Louis doesn’t want the bullshit, though, and continues to wait for the bad news. “Nothing’s definite, though,” the man continues, wringing his hands.

_Here it comes._

“And in cases like this its more likely Harry’s fallen into a comatose state. I wish I could tell you how long it’s going to be, but, being frank, everything’s indefinite from here.”

No one says anything for a long extent of time.

“He could still die?” Louis finally mumbles in a tearful voice, his eyes on the floor again.

The doctor nods.

Louis is actually aware enough to feel himself begin to cry. He feels his nose instantly get stuffy again and his eyes seem to still be able to conjure up enough water to let just a few tears race down his hollow cheeks.

 _He could still die before I ever get to hear his voice again, or see his smile again, or feel his arms wrapped around me again or feel his hand hold mine again or feel_ him _again when I fall asleep—_

“W- when can I see him?” Louis chokes out, cutting off his own train of thought and forcing himself to look up. _Don’t be rude to a doctor. Again._

“Now, actually, that was the last thing I was going to tell you. But we’re not allowing more than three people in his room at once.”

Louis nods solemnly at the doctor, then turns to Niall. “Can you—”

“Yeah, I’ve got ’ya,” he answers.

Louis smiles just a little as Niall repositions the arm slung over his shoulders.

The doctor smiles in this weird sad but fond sort of way, and bobs his heads over a shoulder. “This way, boys.”

They follow him to the elevator where they’re taken to some floor Louis doesn’t pay attention to, and then they’re walked to a secluded patients room. The doctor holds the door open for them, but does not enter the room with them. Louis can swear he heard him say something about “giving them privacy”, but he isn’t paying much attention once he is aware that Harry’s in the same room as him again.

Niall places Louis in the chair closest to Harry’s bed, where Louis immediately grabs Harry’s hand.

“ _My God, what have I done to him?_ ”

Louis can practically hear Niall’s heart drop to his stomach, but he isn’t sure with the mixture of his own pounding heart, or maybe head, and the blood rushing through him blasting in his ears.

“Do you want me to give you two some time—” Niall starts to say, abruptly stopping when Louis looks up and meets his gaze.

Louis pulls his lips back into his mouth over his teeth before responding, “ _Please_ , stay.”

Niall nods his head rigorously and rushes from his spot by the door to sit next to Louis.

Louis looks around the room now. It’s open, plain, and white, the only exception to this color being the machines on the sides of Harry’s bed. Louis follows each wiring from a machine to where it enters Harry’s body. This anticipated beeping of Harry’s living heart persists in the background, but Louis doesn’t really think about its presence much.

“Still beautiful, isn’t he?” Louis breathes, his voice shaking. It hurts to talk. It hurts to think. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to exist, really.

Louis looks at Niall when he doesn’t get an answer. He’s smiling sadly and nodding. Louis tries to smile sadly, too.

He can’t seem to bring himself to do it.

Instead, he begins to rub circles on the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb.

The three sit in silence for a few minutes. Louis looks over Harry’s body, taking in every breath he breathes with that tube coming out of his mouth.

Finally Louis stands. Niall stands, too. Louis leans over Harry.

“You see this one?” He puts his index finger on the top of one of Harry’s bruises, and slides it to the bottom, barely letting himself touch Harry. This bruise is on his collarbone.

“Yeah?”

Louis pulls back the corners of his lips just a little bit. “I gave him that one.”

Niall smiles crookedly. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say most of these were your work.”

Louis nods, running the back of his hand over Harry’s arm and down to his hand. He grabs it again. “God, I really need you to wake up, soon.”

Louis bends down and uses his other hand to push some of the hair out of Harry’s face, then kisses his forehead.

“C’mon, let’s go find the others and show them where his room is.” He doesn’t turn around until he had finished speaking.

“You can stay, I’ll go,” Niall insists, but Louis just shakes his head.

“Don’t wanna be alone with him yet.” Louis drops Harry’s hand and starts walking out, knowing Niall would follow behind. He does.

“Glad you can walk, again,” Niall mumbles. Louis can hear the sad in his voice. Louis wants to scream at him to _stop_ _that_.

“Yeah. Thanks for your help before,” is all he does say.

Louis isn’t sure if Niall responds or not, he had stopped paying attention at that point.

The trip down to Zayn and Liam is kind of a period of blur for Louis. He thinks he just decided he had shut down for a moment because nothing was happening and he was able to not think without any repercussions.

Once he does arrive, though, everything returns to the fast paced string of misery he’s used to dealing with.

“So, we’re only supposed to be in there in groups of three,” Louis starts, his chest filled with this new both piecing and dull pain. _At least you’re not crying._

“So I’ll stay down here,” Niall volunteers. Liam and Zayn nod.

“Wait, no, I will, it’s okay,” Louis cuts in.

The other three exchange unsure glances.

“What, you think just because me and Harry were dating we _need_ to be together now every second we possibly can? You think I’m that needy, and that, um, that selfish? I saw him before now already, I don’t mind sitting out this time, you go. Go! Seriously! I don’t want to fucking see him, okay? Is that so hard to understand? Guys, just, just go!” Louis snaps.

“Alright, alright, but you’re sure you’re okay alone?” Liam asks as they begin to walk towards the elevators.

“Jesus, yes, I was alone before you showed up, I can handle myself. Now, go, just, get out of here,” Louis rasps. His stomach burns; he knows what he’s doing is wrong but he doesn’t seem to care. He isn’t really sure why he’s doing it. He thinks it just feels best. He’s tried some other ways of addressing this whole situation, and this just feels the easiest to him.

Zayn won’t quit staring at him as the three walk into the elevator. Louis glares right back.

Once the elevator door creates a barrier between them, Louis slumps into a waiting room chair. _Shit, I don’t want to see him anymore. I don’t need to be here, this will all be over soon. I don’t need to be here. I want to go home._

Louis pushes himself out of the chair, and begins to glide out of the building. A hand catches his arm, though.

It’s Carly.

“Carly, please, I need to leave,” Louis cries.

She’s taken aback, Louis can tell. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, what’s—”

“I _know_ it’s alright and that’s why I don’t need to be here anymore,” Louis snaps, pulling his arm back and continuing on his stride out of the hospital. The pounding in his head becomes synced with the pace of his footsteps.

He maintains this fast pace all the way back to his car, running his hands through his hair. Then he runs into his first pap.

“Louis! Louis, Louis, what’s going on! Why are you and the guys here? Where’s Harry? Is he why you’re here?” And as the insistent parasite continues to attempt to leech onto Louis, more take notice and begin to mimic his actions. Louis bites his tongue, though he also flips them off, and keeps moving towards his car.

They finally leave him alone in fear of being run over once Louis gets in his car. He begins to drive home, probably breaking more traffic laws than he ever had—in one drive, that is. He clumsily presses on his radio, hoping to find a good station and blast it. But the first thing he hears is a news story.

“ _—witnesses claiming the Range Rover flipped up to three times off of the road before stopping after being collided with by a sixteen wheel delivery truck. So far this has the potential to be one of the worst two-victim accidents to occur on any London highway, and to add to that, the driver of this Range Rover happens to be the internationally famous boybander Harry Styles of One Direction. 20 year old Styles was supposedly found dead at the site—”_

Louis looks for another station. He listens to static for a few second before hearing, “ _Harry Styles died today in Royal London Hospital after being taken there due to fatal injuries he endured in a car crash this morning._ ”

Louis switches the station again. “ _It’s a rumor that’s been spreading like wildfire, Harry Styles dies in the ambulance after paramedics attempt to transport him to the Royal London Hospital after a massive accident—”_

Louis feels his right hand begin to sweat and clamp onto the wheel as he switches the station again. “ _Totally shocking news this morning about that, uh, Harry Styles—”_

_“—all our thoughts and prayers to Mr. Styles’ family and friends in this hard time—”_

_“And this one in memory of Harry Styles, who—_

_“—and while nothing’s definite yet, all my thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Styles and his family.”_

Louis is practically panting now as he just settles on static. His chest heaves as tears prick his eyes. He wants to stop himself from crying again, but once it starts up he is helpless. All he can do is hope Harry really is still lying in that hospital bed, breathing. Just, breathing. That shouldn’t seem like too much to ask, so Louis doesn’t understand why it does.

 

 

Louis sits in Harry’s home for the rest of the day, and can’t find it in himself to sleep this first night alone. All he does is sit and try not to cry and convince himself everything will be fine. He stays up half expecting a call from the hospital that Harry is awake and well and they need Louis to pick him up. The second day he watches whatever movie he can find on TV and stumbles across Love Actually and _hears_ Harry begging for him to keep it on for once. He forces himself to sleep after this event and sleep does eventually takes him. He wakes up screaming several times throughout the night, having dreams of the fight and Harry after the accident and if Harry died. He has to force himself back to sleep because he’s just so  _tired_.

It’s the next morning, the third day, when Louis finally makes contact with anyone outside.

When he wakes up this morning, he is lying in Harry’s bed.

Louis opens his eyes slowly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light. He lets out a long, “mmm”, enjoying the scenery he sees out of Harry’s window. It is snowing.

“It’s so beautiful, Haz. Just like you.” Louis smiles softly, waiting for an answer. He does not receive one.

_Is Harry still asleep? Poor sleepy baby, I never wake up first._

Louis rolls over so he is facing his right. The bed is empty.

“Harry?” Louis sits up.

Still nothing.

_He probably left a note explaining where he is._

Louis throws the blankets one way and his legs the other, off the bed. He scoots his bum forward until his feet touch the floor and pushes himself up.

He pads into the kitchen. Harry usually leaves notes by the fridge.

Nothing’s there. _Where’d he go_?

Louis frowns, looking around the flat for clues. Nothing seems to be off, aside from the blanket on the couch. But sometimes they would watch a movie or talk or have sex and fall asleep on that couch and Harry would bring a blanket out before they fell asleep so maybe one of those had happened.

_Jeez, why can’t I remember anything today?_

Louis walks back to the bedroom. _I’ll just call him. Might as well be comfy in Harry’s bed while I’m doing that._

Louis jumps back onto Harry’s bed, and then becomes aware that he is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which will not do if he wants to be comfortable. He walks into Harry’s closet and picks out a faded white sweater and a pair of Jack Wills sweats—both of which are huge on him, but he doesn’t pay much once he is engulfed by the overwhelming smell of _Harry._

It’s the first time Louis had changed his clothing since the night of the fight.

Once he is changed he hops back into Harry’s bed, phone in hand. He calls Harry.

The phone rings four times before someone picks up.

“Hey, Harry, where—”

“Louis?” It’s Liam.

“Liam? Are you alright, where’s Harry?” Louis asks, squirming in the bed a bit.

“Louis, Harry’s here.” Liam speaks too slowly.

“Um, here, where?” Louis inquires, smiling a little crooked smile. _Today’s already a strange day._

“Here, the hospital. Louis, don’t you remember?” Liam gulps.

“No, why are you and Harry in a hospital?”

“Louis, Harry was in a car accident three days ago, and I’m here with him, and—

“Well, how bad is it?” Louis interrupts.

“Louis, this all happened _three days ago_ and he hasn’t gotten much better.”

“Liam,” Louis snaps, feeling his chest begin to ache. “How bad is it?” He takes long pauses between each word.

“Louis, Harry could still die from this, okay? Now—”

“No, no he’ll pull through. He’s fine, right?” Louis asks, trying to remain light-hearted despite the hurt he can hear in Liam’s voice.

“Louis, no, he’s not fine!” Liam yells.

And then Louis remembers.

His breathing becomes shaky and he nearly drops his phone. “Oh, God Liam I’m sorry.”

“It’s, it’s alright, Louis, just, where are you right now?”

The ache moves from his chest and begins to radiate outward, until every inch of him is ache.

“Louis?”

“I’m at Harry’s,” Louis whispers, and then hangs up.

Louis places his phone on the nightstand. He sits there, in Harry’s big, empty bed, processing. And then a scream crawls out of him.

_How could you forget Harry was in a fucking car accident? What the fuck is wrong with you?_

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Louis brings his tense arms up, not sure what to do with them. He wanted to hurt something, to break it.

He grabs the first thing he can get to—a pillow. He slams it against the headboard. A morsel of tension leaves with it. He slams the pillow again. And again.

As he does this, he screams, “Why did this happen? Why _the fuck_ did this happen? Why the fuck did you did this to me? What the hell did I do to deserve this? What the fuck did I do? Why did you do this to me? No, why did you do this to Harry?”

_Fuck how dare I try to pretend this is my problem? This happened to Harry what the fuck is wrong with me? How could I be so fucking selfish? What is wrong with me oh god Harry I’m sorry what’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t it have been me? Why wasn’t it me?_

He placed his head against the pillow and continued with these past motions, now throwing both at the headboard.

 _Why do you have such shit doctors couldn’t they do anything more for you Harry fucking Styles? They’re just letting you sit there and_ hoping _you wake up they’re not even doing anything! Fuck, why don’t I trust you to wake up like these doctors, these_ strangers, _do?_

_Because you’re fucking unreliable, maybe if you weren’t you wouldn’t have gotten into that fucking accident!_

_Oh what the fuck is wrong with me this isn’t your fault this is my fault; I let you just leave without a second thought. I had to cause that fucking fight last night, if it wasn’t for me none of this would’ve happened, none! Fuck, it’s my fault!_

Louis begins to cry out, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault!” and bangs his head and the pillow on the headboard and sobs and _screams_ and continues this way as though he cannot stop.

And this is what Zayn finds him doing when he enters Harry’s flat about 10 minutes later. Except at that point Louis had lost the pillow.

 

 

Zayn started by getting rid of every last ounce of alcohol Harry had kept in the house. Before this he tried to stop Louis but Louis just thrashed and screamed and tried to punch him, so he assumed he was drunk.

Once all the alcohol was gone Zayn got back to Louis, who was still sobbing and banging his head on the wooden headboard of Harry’s bed—as well as his fists now.

This time Zayn began by grabbing both of Louis’ hands and holding on tight. He yelled at Louis to stop and that he was scaring him and everything’s alright.

This last one got to Louis. This last one made him answer, “No, Zayn, I don’t know if you fucking realize this but Harry could be dead at any second now and it’s all my fault!”

And then Louis just sat there panting and staring at Zayn and finally feeling his head throb and his possibly broken knuckles pound along with his heart and he began to really cry.

At first he yelled out thoughts like, “It should be me in Harry’s place, why wasn’t it me?” and, “Why was I so fucking selfish?” and, “Why aren’t his doctors trying harder they need to fucking try harder!” but this ultimately worsened the pounding in his head and so he shut up.

And so now he is just crying onto Zayn while Zayn holds him and tries to stop him from shaking so hard. Louis can hear Zayn starting to crack and realizes how shitty it must feel to have to take care of Louis and not himself, and this only makes Louis cry harder.

At the same time all Louis can do is smell Harry around him and this also makes him cry harder.

After what could’ve easily been an eternity of this relentless crying, Louis sniffles to try to stop. “Zayn?”

He looks up and meets Zayn’s eyes with his wide, red, sore ones. “Zayn, ma- my head hurts.”

He speaks with such innocence and helplessness he surprise even himself. He thinks only Harry has ever heard him that vulnerable.

Zayn smiles a little at him. “Yeah, you banged it up pretty bad, and all this crying probably isn’t helping either.”

Zayn runs a hand through Louis’ hair and Louis winces.

Zayn pulls his lips together and furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, you’ve really banged yourself up. Let me get you some ice.”

Louis gives a little nod and lets Zayn help him lie back down. He stays there as Zayn searches for a baggie and ice, because Harry didn’t have any icepacks. It takes him longer than it would’ve if Louis were able to tell him where he could find a plastic bag. Louis refrains, though, because any noises are painful and he doesn’t want to add to that.

Zayn does, eventually, come back with the ice. He sits beside Louis and whispers, “Point to where it hurts.”

Louis motions to the entirety of the top of his head, ignoring the sharp pains in his knuckles. Zayn smiles that same little smile from before.

He gently has to wean the hard ice cubes onto Louis’ head in a way that will cause Louis the least amount of pain.

“My hero,” Louis lets out sarcastically.

Zayn chuckles.

“Seriously, thank you.”

“Least I could do, and hey, don’t get too cozy, I’m taking you to the hospital once Niall brings my car around.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Wait, no.”

“Yeah, Lou, you probably have a concussion.” Zayn looks at his phone. “He’s here, let me help you.” Zayn starts to force him to sit back up.

“No, no Zayn, please, please I don’t want to go there, please,” Louis begs, unable to really do anything besides hold this melting ice bag on his head.

“Louis, you’ve seriously hurt yourself and we’re taking you to the hospital,” Zayn insists, pulling Louis up. “Now where are your shoes?”

“Zayn, I’m not going back there, I don’t want to be back there with him, please, I don’t want to go out!”

Zayn ignores him and continues looking for his shoes. He spots them by the door and walks Louis over to them as Louis continues to beg him not to take him. Louis doesn’t put his shoes on.

“Zayn.” Louis knows he has Zayn’s attention now. “Listen, I’m not going back to the place where I know Harry is probably dying. Please, please don’t make me.”

“Alright, Lou, we’ll go to some other hospital, just please put your shoes on,” Zayn sighs. He gets results, though.

He and Louis slowly move down to the car, but get there eventually. “Niall, we’re going to a different hospital, any other one. The fastest you can get to,” Zayn instructs and he places Louis in the back seat he’s not sat in.

“Why? Royal London is—”

“Niall, no, we’re not going back there, okay?” Zayn growls, supporting Louis’ head.

“Can I at least get some directions to some other hospital?” Niall asks.

 _Everyone’s bitter and I can’t help,_ Louis thinks.

“Yeah, just will you please drive?” Zayn urges him, knowing Louis really needs to get to _any_ hospital.

“I’m going,” Niall huffs, pulling onto the street.

Zayn does direct Niall to some other hospital Louis doesn’t catch the name of. At this point his vision and hearing are both too blurred for him to really be coherent about anything. Anything except for Zayn’s voice shouting for him to stay awake.

Once they get inside Zayn sits down with Louis in yet another waiting room while Niall tries to get a doctor.

“Hey, hey Louis, you’ve got to stay with me, okay?” Zayn says, holding Louis’ face so he’s looking at Zayn.

“But, Zayn, ’m so tired,” Louis mumbles, starting to nod off.

“Louis! I know you’re tired but you’ve got to stay awake just for a little, okay?”

“I’ll try but I dunno if I can, Zayn,” Louis says, the muscles in his neck giving in as his head falls onto Zayn’s shoulder.

Only then does Zayn realize there’s no trace of alcohol on his breath. _He hadn’t been drinking._ He had done all this to himself _sober._ And then he realizes that Louis’ pain was much worse than he had thought.

Amazingly enough, Louis actually hadn’t consumed any alcohol during this three-day retreat. He hadn’t consumed anything.

“Niall!” he calls, wondering where the hell Niall and this doctor are.

 

 

Louis basically blacks out at this point. He doesn’t regain full consciousness until several hours later. He wakes with an IV in his arm in a hospital bed.

“Look who’s awake,” Liam says. He is sitting in a chair beside him.

“Liam how did I get into this dress?” Louis asks.

“The hospital gown? Not sure, you were already in it when I showed up.”

“Yeah, um, am I concussed then?”

“Yeah, you are. And starved, apparently.” Liam finally meets Louis’ gaze.

Louis lets out a breath, one corner of his lip twitching. “Can always count on you to be blunt, can’t I?” he quips.

“Louis,” Liam snaps, almost immediately after. “Why didn’t you eat?”

Louis shrugs. He feels the bags under his eyes; he can feel them weighing him down. “I forgot.”

“Louis, will you please come be with us? I don’t see why you’re reacting so badly; the doctor said the best and only thing we can do is remain positive. He hasn’t died—”

“ _Yet_.”

“Louis, Harry’s not going to die.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything!” Louis shouts, slamming his hands on the bed and curling his upper body to move towards Liam.

Liam lets Louis calm down for a minute. After a minute of Louis’ panting Liam takes one of his hands.

Louis gently pulls away.

Liam looks to his feet, then looks up again. “Listen. We really need you there at the hospital. And you know Harry needs you, too. If not for us, do it for him. You can’t be that selfish.”

Liam gets up and walks out.

As he exits, Niall enters the doorway and enters the room.

“Bit harsh, wasn’t it?” Louis sighs.

“Louis if Zayn hadn’t found when he did you might be dead right now. You only react to ‘harsh’,” Niall says, standing at the end of his bed.

Louis ignores the comment. “Where is Zayn? I should thank him.”

“Last I saw he was smoking a fag out back.”

Louis wants to say something, but sees the irony soon enough to catch himself. He reassesses and murmurs, “Could use one right about now, too.”

Niall sighs. “Louis, the doctor thought you were trying to commit suicide. Said that’s usually the case of patients ‘in your condition’. You’ve got to go easier on yourself if you want to survive to see Harry wake up.”

“But what if he doesn’t wake up?” Louis stares straight into Niall’s eyes. “I’ve done the research. After the first 24 hours the chances of Harry waking up go down like 40 percent, or something like that. It’s not good.”

Niall looks down, now. “Lou, you’re overthinking this. This is in Harry’s hands whether he wakes up or not, or God’s, or whoever you believe in most. The medical side doesn’t matter much, so stop thinking about this in numbers. You’ll think yourself to death like you always do. And you know now you don’t have Harry to stop you from it.”

Neither says anything or looks at the other for the longest time. And then Louis falls rasps, “Just get out.”

And then he falls back to sleep.

 

He spends the rest of the day and a small part of the next in the hospital. Liam drives him home; he’s Louis’ first babysitter of the week. Since he is concussed, Liam has to make sure he doesn’t do anything. Literally, nothing. He isn’t allowed to focus on anything, which involves reading and watching television or movies. So all he does is sit in his bedroom with his door shut, listening to music, with Liam on the other side.

By the end of the day, all he’s done is memorized some song lyrics and decide having a concussion sucks.

 

He falls asleep, and in the morning, some morning, he’s not entirely sure how long he’d been in his room, he leaves his room to eat. He knew Liam would be on his ass if he didn’t.

Louis finds Zayn sitting on his couch.

They make eye contact but all either can hear is the drone of the radiator and the hustle of the London street outside.

After relocating his focal point, Louis finally inquires, “How are you?”

Zayn smiles slightly. “Been better, but. How are you?”

“That’s the million dollar question, innit?” Louis strides into the kitchen wearing a quirky smile.

He’s finished pouring cereal into a bowl and is prepared to start with the milk when Zayn interjects loudly, “Louis, seriously.”

“Seriously…I’m not even sure myself. I haven’t had much time to think because I’ve been forcing myself not to. I kind of like right here, it’s kind of this numb right here. Like, I know what’s happened, but, I haven’t really processed it. I don’t know. I just know I can’t cry right now because it’ll give me a terrible migraine and the only way to avoid that is to pretend I’m just living in a really slow day, and Harry hasn’t been in a fucking coma for five days, that he’s just at home or out, just…living.”

“Six, Lou.”

Louis puts the milk back in the fridge.

“It’s been six days, Louis.”

Louis falls into his chair and starts laughing. When he looks up at Zayn his eyes tears have formed cataracts on his eyes.

“I can’t even remember how long my boyfriend’s been in a bloody coma! No wonder I let him get into that accident in the first place.”

Louis can feel a pounding in his head as he attempts to convince himself he’s not going to break down. He’d been holding it together for what seemed to be a long time. He swallows a spoonful of food.

“Christ, Louis, you wouldn’t be this miserable if you would just quit doing this to yourself!”

Louis continued with his cereal.

“Why do you do this to yourself? You always blame yourself for accidents. They’re called accidents for a reason, yeah? They’re not anybody’s fault! Not yours, not Harry’s, nobody’s. This is hard enough for you by itself why do have to go on making things harder for yourself?”

That damned radiator and a cacophony of British street life played on.

Louis finished eating and placed his bowl in the sink. He slowly turned on the tap and watched it fill up with diluted water. Before it’s full Louis tries to pick up the bowl but his fingers slip and he just drops the bowl on its side. The white-tinted water floods out and Louis leaves it to pick up a sponge. He squeezes out a surplus of liquid soap onto it, letting it ooze off the sponge and onto his palm before placing the soap back. He then meticulously cleans out the bowl with the sponge before rinsing it out again and placing it in the dishwasher.

“It’s quite funny.” Louis stops to grab a rag near the sink. “The night before the accident me and Harry had a fight. He told me I never own up to what I’ve done, _especially_ what I’ve done to others. Must be overcompensating, or something.”

Louis moves past Zayn and back towards his bedroom.

“Hey, Louis, wait.”

Louis notes how half-hearted Zayn’s attempt to stop him is. He does stop, though.

“Zayn, just let me be for now. I don’t want you to feel like you need to put all your focus into me; take care of yourself. Please.”

And with that he pads back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

            Louis lies in his bed for some time wondering when things will get back to normal—really just hoping they will. He's not sure if this is a prayer for Harry to get better though and then he gets angry at himself for not believing Harry will recover. He throws up his breakfast in the bathroom.

After this he takes a shower, a really hot shower, but can't help but feeling cold. He steps out of the shower covered in goose bumps, but finally clean. He wraps himself up in a towel and shuffles back to his bedroom, and sits on his bed. He remains there for some time; just feeling the freezing beads of water drip from his hair and hit his back.

He finally gets up and changes back into pajamas.

Harry's clothes, the ones Louis ended up wearing to the hospital, sit in a baggie in the corner. He feels them eyeing him and puts them in the back of his closet.

He pulls the ear buds out of his phone and plays the first song to come on his ITunes aloud.

            Louis falls back to sleep after listening to maybe two songs. It isn’t a deep sleep, but enough for him to block out the world. He curls up, his body trying to keep itself warm. He probably should have gone under the covers.

            He isn’t sure how long he’s like this; he just remembers when he’s woken.

            Zayn had been standing in his room, and is just leaving when Louis’ eyelids wearily pull apart. He sees Zayn is on the phone.

            “Yeah, yeah I think he’s just dealing it in his own way. I dunno, I didn’t get the chance to ask him; he’s been asleep and clearly didn’t want to talk to me when he was awake… I don’t think that’s why. You know what, it doesn’t matter…I think he’s like, well, I’m not sure but I was doing some reading on the way he’s been acting, maybe he’s like going through the stages of grief… It’s, um, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and then acceptance…I know, I know that’s for when people die, but he’s been telling us not to say Harry’s gonna wake up, he seems pretty convinced this can’t end well…I just, if he’s going through these stages, what if he’s like, stuck in depression until Harry does die, or wake up, or wake up, sorry. What do we do? How the hell do we do anything to get him, like, better…Therapy, for Louis? Not sure how well he’ll take that…Yeah, that, that works. Okay, I’ll talk to you later, Liam. Bye.”

Louis feels his face fall. _Do they think I'm depressed_?

Am _I depressed_?

Louis doesn't think he's depressed; it's too soon for this to have changed him so much. Harry's still alive! He couldn't be depressed, just… in premature mourning.

Louis frowns, hating this confusion. Only then does he become aware he's still freezing.

He slowly moves himself under the covers, but he isn't as quiet as he had planned on being. His sudden movement attracts the attention of his babysitter of the day. 

“Louis?” Zayn mumbles, walking back towards Louis' door. “You awake?”

Louis tries to act asleep, not feeling like talking to Zayn quite yet, but with no such luck.

“Louis, I know you're awake.”

Louis sighs in defeat and flops from his side to his back. “What gave me away?” He keeps the covers pulled up to his chin. 

"Well for starters I wasn't hearing your loud ass snoring anymore," Zayn teases. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I do not snore…”

Zayn chuckles. “No, you don't. You are a pretty still sleeper, though, so I figured you must be awake enough to cover yourself with the blanket.”

“How many times have you watched me sleep, Zayn?” Louis jokes with a faux smile. 

Zayn bites down on his bottom lip. “Are you that cold? I can turn the heat up?”

“Don't bother, it won't help,” Louis drones, adjusting his head on a pillow. “I haven't really felt warm in, well, six days. I think my body's so used to feeling his heat radiating right beside me and now it's confused.”

Zayn looks away from Louis. Louis can tell he wants to say something but is refraining.

Louis draws his lips into a line. “I guess. Never really paid much attention to it.”

 _There was always so much life to see_ inside _the flat._

“You should start,” Zayn replies immediately. “I mean, it always helps me clear my head, seeing the life around me and all the good and bad. Helps put things in perspective.”

Zayn walks over to the window. “Come sit with me.”

Louis doesn’t move.

“Or we could always smoke. No Harry here to stop us.”

Louis sighs, knowing he should be smiling. He sits up, wraps the blanket around himself, and walks with it to his bedroom window. Zayn moves back and helps Louis sit before sitting himself.

“I really miss having him here, Zayn.” Nobody had spoken for what could've been well over an hour. 

Zayn turns away from the window to look at Louis. Louis had started crying completely silently. “I know, Lou.”

Before Zayn could continue, Louis hiccups, “And I keep telling myself he's just away like when he escapes to LA or New York, but I also feel like he's just, not coming back, already. And just want him back. He doesn't deserve any of this.”

Louis knows now this is just overkill. Zayn probably has an idea how hurt Louis is, why the fuck is he crying? _Jesus, Louis, stop, fucking stop it._

Needless to say, that doesn’t work.

He continues to cry and Zayn continues to hold him and comfort him and Louis continues to hate the whole ordeal.

 

“Excuse me, what’s today’s date?”

Harry’s nurse, Nurse Michaels, has her attention drawn away from Harry’s charts to the empty-eyed, tired boy who she had seen sitting in the room since visiting hours opened at nine this morning.

“Today would be Tuesday, December the 16th.” She moves back to her charts—there’s no change anywhere. _If blue-eyes wants Harry to live he’s going to need to motivate him quickly._

“He’s not doing so well, is he?” Louis croaks, holding one of Harry’s hands in both of his.

The nurse sighs. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. But he’s still got time. Don’t lose spirit, he needs it more than you know.”

She smiles at Louis, and Louis smiles a toothless smile back.

“So, what was- I mean, what is he to you? You know, you can’t be related, only relatives that would care this much are mums, and you’re not his mum, I’ve met her already. So, what then, best friend?”

“Boyfriend, and Anne’s been here?” Louis perks up a bit. _Anne and Gemma. Shit, I wonder how they’re dealing?_

“Oh yeah, wonderful woman. If she raised her son to be anything like her I could see why he’s so missed.”

Louis smiles again. “Trust me, she did an amazing job with him.”

The nurse’s smile falters. “I believe it. If you’ll excuse me.”

She leaves without a real excuse. Louis doesn’t appreciate it; he was almost enjoying the older woman’s company. He’s grateful Harry didn’t get a nurse who knew who he was beforehand.

“God, Harry, we’ve really gotten ourselves into a mess here.”

Louis repositions himself and opens up the journal he had purchased and later vandalized the pages of.

“Alright, babe, dunno how much of this is getting through, but. The boys said I need to talk to somebody. Apparently they’ll send me to therapy or something stupid like that if I don’t and, well, you’re the only person I would talk to if I felt like this is you were awake, so I might as well talk to you asleep. Just, listen.

So I wanted to fill you in on everything when you wake up, because another thing the boys and everyone really said I have to do is _believe_ you’ll wake up. I’m not sure if I really believe it, truthfully, but I’m acting like someone who does. And as someone know thinks you’ll wake up I’m thinking about the future. And I know you’ll want to know about the life you missed while you were, well, absent? I dunno. Anyhow, I started writing everything down in this journal. I wanted to use yours but I feel like that’s an invasion of privacy and there’s no point if you’re not living to create secrets you need to keep from me. I’m gonna assume you understood that.”

Louis exhales slowly, his clammy hands jerking to the covers of his journal, pulling it open to the first page. “Okay, here goes. Here’s my journal, my collection of the events you’re missing.”

He breathes once more, shakily, and begins.

_Hey Harry, Louis here. You already knew that. Wow I’m really off to a good start here._

_So I’m writing this entry, I guess, at 11:43 pm on Sunday, December fourteenth. You’ve been asleep for eight days. Last night was the one-week anniversary and I sat in my bed all day and didn’t know what to do with myself. Should I be proud I made it a week without you or should I be upset you’ve been gone for a week? I couldn’t figure it out. I think there’s a dent still in the mattress from where I was sitting until Niall came over at nine and told me I need to talk to them or someone or they’ll send me to therapy. I think that’s what he said, anyway. And then I didn’t say anything to him because I couldn’t vocalize how I felt, despite all the time I had just spent trying to figure that out. He thought I was shutting him off intentionally and after yelling at me he asked me when the last time I slept was and I told him I couldn’t remember so he found me an Ambien you had gotten for me that one time this summer I had that really bad kick of insomnia (“kick of insomnia?”) and forced me to take it and I passed out. This morning I went to the doctor and I’m finally through with this concussion crap—we’ll get to that later—and so I could write so from the doctor I told Liam, who took me, to drop me off at that craft store a block away from my flat where we got the stuff to make that birthday card for Lux. I found a composition notebook so I bought that and some pens because you know I could never keep track of anything, especially not pens._

_Well that was just a crapload of information on how I got here, now let me fill you in on the rest._

_Okay so it was the sixth when a truck hit your car and you got knocked into a coma. The other days are a bit blurry and according to Zayn I’m forgetting one so I’ll go day by day and just tell you what I remember doing._

_The day of your coma, I wanna say I stayed at your side hoping you’d wake right up but I can’t, because I’d be lying. I’m so sorry it took me this long to stop being a dick and come see you, I reacted so fucking badly and I don’t know why but I imagine you probably would. Anyway, you came out of surgery and Niall had to physically help me walk up to your room. And you looked basically how you would expect someone to, but a million times worse because it was_ you _looking that awful and I hated seeing you that way. So once me and Niall left the room he went back up with Zayn and Liam (only 3 people in the room, it’s a fucking annoying rule) and I took off. God, word spread so fucking quickly about your accident I had to listen to static on the car ride to your flat. Thinking back I’m not even sure how much of it was real, just that I couldn’t listen to it. Everybody thought you were dead. Everybody._

_So I stayed at your flat for the rest of the day; your accident was in the morning. I don’t remember for the life of me what I did that day, probably tried to deny it happened. I couldn’t accept it quite yet. I can tell you what else I didn’t do—sleep. Or eat._

_The next day, the seventh I was watching TV and it was probably eight and I found “Love Actually” and I literally heard you behind me begging to keep it on and then I turned and that’s the moment when I realized I was truly alone and you were really, really gone and it all just hit me at once, and so I forced myself to use sleep as a way to put it all aside (that didn’t work. My subconscious loves to fuck me over)._

_I got through the night somehow, but don’t ask for the specifics of that._

_On the eighth something strange happened. I had woken up with amnesia, I guess. I was convinced none of this had happened and when I saw you weren’t there I just assumed you had gone out for groceries or something. And then I called your phone, which somehow a.) didn’t get destroyed in the crash and b.) ended up in the possession of Liam. So he answered and, well, jogged my memory, to put it in few words._

_And then I felt the same way I did when I heard you had been in a potentially fatal accident except worse because_ I had forgotten you were in a potentially fatal accident.

_So I started doing the ‘take your anger out on a pillow’ thing but just throwing a pillow at your headboard wasn’t enough so I added my head in and banged my fucking head against a headboard until I was concussed. You know me, I had to go big._

_Zayn found me like this and got me to stop, and the next thing I knew it was the midday and I was in a hospital. Not your hospital, though Zayn tells me I shouldn’t have insisted of avoiding yours because I would’ve been better off in a trauma center. Anyway, I stayed in my hospital till the next morning, so now we’re at the ninth._

_Liam took me home and I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, listening to music and thinking about everything but you. That’s a lot less things than it sounds like; you occupy a huge space in my brain._

_I remember sleeping and then Liam coming in the next morning, the tenth, because I have to eat because I didn’t those three days I spent at your flat. I kind of just forgot to._

_At this point this vast emptiness settled in me, and I could almost feel it. I don’t know why it took so long, but I’m not sure why anything is happening. I’ve realized how much I need you while you’ve been gone and I really you to come home with me so we can talk it out in front of a fire because it’s finally snowed so it’s finally acceptable. I’m sorry you missed the first snow of the season; I know how excited it always made you._

_I guess I’m forgetting about the eleventh. I probably did so little the day its existence just escaped me. All I can remember from that day is probably discovering the 1975 song “Medicine” and trying not to get upset because it’s how I feel about you. I listened to that for a long time._

_I’m not sure how time just seemed to have been lost upon me since you left. Really, it doesn’t add up. I can’t believe how hard it is to function without you. Please wake up. And don’t feel rushed; I guess it doesn’t have to be now, but eventually? That’s the worst part about all this, there’s no assurance about anything. Hell, you could still die. Please don’t._

_But back to business. Now we’re up to the twelfth, which is the day Zayn came over. I think he was avoiding it because he was the one who found me the day I gave myself the concussion. He hadn’t visited me during my brief time in the hospital. I hope he was with you; I can’t stand the thought of you being here all alone._

_I finally came out of my room on my own, knowing if I didn’t someone would barge in and force food down my throat. I don’t know why eating is so difficult. I think if I keep not being able to keep my food down I’m going to start losing so much weight people will be able to tell. I don’t want people to know how bad it’s been._

_So I talked to Zayn and had breakfast and then threw it back up. And then I heard him talking on the phone. They think I’m depressed, Harry. I’m not sure if they’re right or not, but I’ve been telling myself it’s the latter._

_Then Zayn realized I was awake, because after “breakfast” I went back to bed, and he told me about how I should look out my view more. I actually listened, and I feel like he should be right about it putting things into perspective, but I can’t see the happy in the world anymore with you gone. I think you were the happy._

_I ended up sobbing on Zayn because something about him makes it feel okay, but I still hated it. I’ve always hated crying, you know that, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling of constant emptiness and sadness or sorrow and tired. Please wake up._

_And then there’s the thirteenth, which was the week anniversary, where we began._

_And then the fourteenth, today, and it’s a rainy Sunday night which I love the sound of but it is also pissing me off because the snow’s turning to slush. Nothing beautiful ever lasts, another thing I’ve come to realize since you left me. Talk about symbolism, eh?_

This is where Louis had finished writing, so he pulls out the pen he keeps on the back cover (he’s proud he hadn’t lost it yet). “Alright, this was two days ago, because I started Sunday night and it took me all of yesterday to write. So now I’m gonna tell you about yesterday and today so you’re really all caught up. Sorry if I pause, I’ve got to write as I go, you understand.”

Louis smiles to himself.

“Okay, yesterday. Yesterday was the fifteenth, and like I said, I was writing that entry for most of the day. The only part about yesterday I want to mention is at around five I ate something that the boys had left for me, I think it was pasta. But I kept it down for once! I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it is, I promise.

"And then I went to sleep, and I’ve been having less, or, fewer nightmares. It’s getting easier, but then I woke up this morning, a little shred of me still hoping this has all been one sick, twisted dream. But every morning I look at your side of the bed and I all of the sudden I feel completely gutted you’re not there. I swear, when you do wake up you’re moving back in with me.

"And so I had a glass of milk and then I drove over here and waited for visiting hours to start at nine. I know, I actually got up that early on my own, shocking. And then I just sat here, not knowing how to begin. It’s almost one now. But I did start, and now we’re here.”

He concludes the entry he was also writing and closes his journal.

“Thanks for listening, Harry.”

He examines Harry’s arms, the bruises have really healed and the stitches will be coming out soon enough.

Louis kisses the back of Harry’s hand and steps out to put his journal back into his car.

When Louis walks back to the entryway of Harry’s room, someone is sitting in his seat. The door squeaks as he opens it, alerting the girl of his presence.

“Oh, Louis, you scared me. Probably should’ve expected you, my mum said she saw you in here earlier reading to him.”

“Oh, she, uh, she saw that?” Louis scratched his temple, hiding his face from his boyfriend’s sister.

Gemma seemed to giggle. “Well you don’t need to be embarrassed. We’re all, dealing, with this in our own way.”

Louis’ hand drops back to his side as he pulls the corners of his lips back and nods. He continues to stand in the doorway until Gemma pats the seat beside her invitingly. He walks over.

“So where’ve you been, Lou? Would’ve expected you to be here, like, all the time.”

Louis shakes his head, his face looking towards his feet. “No, no. I, uh, took a different approach.”

“Ah.”

Neither says anything after this. Louis keeps his eyes locked on to Harry, feeling Gemma look at him. _I should’ve talked to her and Anne sooner. Shit._

“You know, I think this is the longest I’ve ever heard you go without speaking.” With that, Gemma begins to lean forward. She takes three pieces of Harry’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Louis finally says.

“Braiding Sleeping Beauty’s hair.”

Just that, as if this whole thing were as simple as that. Louis reluctantly smiles a bit, which Gemma looks up to make sure of.

“Its…easier when you think about it that way. Feels less real.”

Louis nods slowly.

“Hey, maybe if you kiss him.”

Now he’s actually laughing lightly. “Never thought of that, actually.”

Gemma bites over her bottom lip and smiles, continuing her plait in her brother’s hair.

“So, how have you been, Gemma? Really?”

“Oh, God, I’m not sure I’ve even got the time to fully answer that.”

Louis nods. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. And, I’m doing how you would think I was doing, you know? It’s fucking difficult, of course it’s difficult, but I think me and my mum are doing well, like, handling the situation. Because we had each other to be honest with. But, it’s been hard knowing he’s like this, seeing him like this. I just… want it to be over.”

Louis doesn’t move. He sits slouched with his hands in his lap just watching Harry’s chest move up and down.

“But what about you, Louis?” Gemma looks up and Louis feels a physical pain in his chest because she has Harry’s exact eyes.

“Fuck, I really miss his eyes,” Louis groans without really thinking about it. “I really miss him. There’s this quality about your brother that’s so infectious and beautiful and I just got so used to it and started to take it for granted before all this. Like, that’s, well, one of the worst parts. That when it happened he was upset, like, _really_ upset with me. And I just, God I really want to apologize. I just want him awake.”

Gemma is quiet now, tying off the braid with a hair tie. Then she stands and walks around the bed to the other side, kneeling now besides Harry to start a second braid.

“Gemma, do you think he’ll wake up?”

Unfazed, Gemma keeps going at Harry’s hair. “Yes.”

Louis is almost shocked at the sureness in her voice. He almost believes her. “Why do you think so, then?”

“Because Harry’s one of the, if not _the_ most stubborn person I know. And Louis, he loves so much. He loves being here and having these experiences and you. He wouldn’t just let it end like this.”

Louis wants to say something pessimistic, more than he should. He controls himself and moves into Gemma’s seat.

“And then there’s you, alone.”

“Pardon?”

Gemma stands, finished with the second braid. “I just, I feel like, well. I’ve talked to him, about you, and he once told me he trusts you more than anyone, even with his, like, his heart.” She smiles at the memory. “I’m willing to bet when he does come to, he’s going to say it’s because of you, not letting him give up.”

“I’ll take you up on that bet,” Louis comments, his mind suddenly elsewhere. _I can’t have that much of a hold on him. I can’t. I don’t._

“Well, now all we can do is wait then.” Gemma falls into the chair Louis was in before. “Weren’t you here before?”

Louis shushes her playfully, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to lean on his shoulder. His other hand is extended out to hold Harry’s hand.

“Hey, where’s your mum?”

“I think she went out to buy food. We’ve been staying in his flat ’cause, you know, it’s closer.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry if I left a mess for you guys. I stayed there for two days after the accident and just… processed.”

“No worries, Mum seemed to like cleaning. It got her mind off everything, and it wasn’t too bad to begin with, anyway.”

“Well, I’m glad to be helping Anne out?”

Gemma chuckles. “Yeah, she’s really been wanting to see you.”

“I figured that she would. God, I wish I had come to see you guys sooner.” He traces figure eight’s on the back of Harry’s hand, between his thumb and index finger.

“Well, you’re here now. What can you do?”

Much like her brother, Louis always thought Gemma knew the right thing to say.

After a minute Louis sighs. “He always used to hate when I did this to his hand for too long.”

Gemma exhales sharply with a little smile. “Why?”

“He said it feels nice at first but after a while it becomes painful, like I’m trying to dig into his skin, or something.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Harry’s still got his baby skin.”

“True.”

“Hey Gemma?”

“Yes?”

“Do I have your, er, sorry, I mean, _can_ , or rather, _may_ I have your permission to propose to your brother when he wakes up?”

“Well.” Gemma brings his arm over her head and places it on his lap. “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Louis smiles. “Apparently it takes almost losing him for me to realize I never ever want to let him go.”

Gemma also begins to smile. “Well, you definitely have my permission. But I’m just the sister don’t you have to ask our parents?”

“Yeah, but you’re his _big_ sister and you look out for him differently than your parents do and I thought it was important I get your approval.”

“Well, you’re sweet. Harry’s lucky to have found you.”

“No, you’ve got it backwards. I’m lucky to have him. Really, really fucking lucky.”

“Hey, watch your mouth young man.”

Louis’s head snaps towards the doorway. “Anne.”

He smiles wider than he had for the past week and a half. He can’t help it; Anne’s warm smile is contagious. He has known this since the first time he met her (he was almost comically nervous to meet Harry’s family, until he saw Anne smiling at him).

He walks over to where she’s stood, hugging her tightly. They sort of waddle back and forth, so Louis takes advantage of this and turns them so he’s facing Gemma again. He exaggeratedly mouths, “ _Don’t. Say. Anything.”_

Gemma holds her hands in the air.

“Oh, Lou, it’s so good to finally see you,” Anne sighs. “Why haven’t we seen you sooner?”

Louis exhales slowly. “I was being stupid and couldn’t see him yet. I just needed time.”

Anne pulls away. “Don’t say that. You weren’t being stupid; we’ve all got our own way in handling this. It wasn’t stupid if it brought us together, and you know, better late than never!”

Louis pulls Anne back in for another hug.

 

_Harry, I hate to say this, but life without you has actually gotten easier._

Louis had crossed this sentence out and rewritten it, twice.

_I don’t know why I think this is such a sin, you’ll probably think I’m going too hard on myself and that I should just try to enjoy the time I have awake with or without you, because that’s the excuse you used when you said you had to get away for a few days. But that’s all it was then, an excuse. Now it feels more like legitimate advice. I haven’t decided how I feel about this all yet._

_Anyhow, today’s the eighteenth, so I guess I’ll read this to you tomorrow, the nineteenth. I’m writing at 22:28 because I want the last thing I do to be write this entry. The first one really helped, but I also had another reason to cheer up._

_I finally reacquainted with your mum and Gemma. I know, it was ridiculous of me to not think to contact them sooner, but I think the timing was alright. None of us were still in the immediate shock phase, so it was easier to just sit and make each other happy and not feel guilty about not letting you absorb all of our attention. (I’ve just reread this and realized how awful that sounds. It’s not like you’ve demanded our attention, we just felt like we_ had _to give it to you. Our decision, you’re not at all at fault.)_

_We all sat in your room after a nice bonding session, talking about you and things that just the thought of me discussing with your mum’d probably embarrass you._

_And that was most of the sixteenth, after reading you the last entry. They invited me back to their home but right now your flat is their home and I don’t know why but I couldn’t bring myself to say yes to go back there._

_So I went home, and sat in my kitchen and had a bottle of beer and contemplated what I should be feeling about you and this situation and myself. I ended up starting to get worked up about how I had sat with you all day and not once felt truly upset over your condition so I forced myself to sleep. And I didn’t have a single nightmare. It terrified me._

_And then there was yesterday. Your mum told one of the other boys I had seen her and said I am doing well and so they all came over at around 19:15 to celebrate the return of ‘regular’ me. I didn’t realize ‘regular’ was a synonym for ‘the only emotion this guy has is happy’. And then I snapped at them because I didn’t want to go out and I didn’t want to be this happy because it feels so_ wrong _to be happy without you and if they wanted to make me happy they would let me decide when I’m ready to move on but now that I think about it until you make the decision to stay or leave I’m not going to move on._

_The boys ended up spending the night, after apologizing. I let it go easier than I should have because I know how badly they want me there because I don’t think they’re able to feel as whole as they can without me completing the four, you know? I think they all have this idea that if we’re at least together, maybe it’ll be easier to feel like we’re not missing a piece. I don’t know how they do it._

_We watched_ Grease _because they all just wanted to please me and I didn’t actually have a say in it and it was on anyway. I appreciated the gesture. Truth be told I wasn’t paying attention to the last bit of the movie; Gemma had taught me the day before how to French braid hair and Zayn let me practice it with his hair._

_Afterwards we, obviously, all admired the brilliant job I had done with the braids in Zayn’s hair, but then I started to tell them how your sister had braided your hair and we all began to sit around talking and I’m not sure how but as we sat around the other three just fell asleep. And suddenly it was just me, stuck with all these thoughts they had stirred up about you that I hadn’t gotten to share before they passed out. And they’ve all been brewing inside me all day today, and I wanted to tell your mum or your sister because we went out for lunch after visiting you today. (We didn’t say anything when we were in your room, not a single word. Even in your sleep you’re absolutely breathtaking.) But these things, well, your family thinks I’m doing well and these aren’t the thoughts of a person who’s fully dealt with their feelings about this situation. And I know you would be the only one I would feel comfortable telling these things to, anyway. I guess now’s as good a time as any to get them out of me._

_And I think these are not the best things for me to be thinking and the best mindset but I want to tell you anyway because if you were awake you would have definitely pried these things out of me by now. So here goes._

_I decided while Niall, Zayn and Liam were sleeping around me; I decided that we have four possible outcomes in this situation. And I’ve been trying to only think of the good ones but the four are 1. You wake up soon and everything can get back to how it was fairly quickly, 2. You can stay asleep for months, a year maybe, and then you’ll wake up and maybe everything will be different. And then there’s 3 and 4 which I really don’t want to think about but you’re gonna want me to be honest with you, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. The third option is you don’t make it. You can’t handle this and you die. And the fourth option, is you make us wait and wait for you to wake up, and you either die because you couldn’t handle it anymore, or we have to make that decision for you. I really, really don’t want to think about that very last one._

_I’ve been doing thinking about the second one mainly, to be honest with you._ _And I honestly can’t imagine how, just, strange life will be with you gone for so long, Harry. Hell, I nearly killed myself after three days. And I know things are supposed to get better with time but I don’t want this sting to go away because it’s the only piece of you that I have to hold on to and can carry it around wherever I go and it’s only been gone once or twice now but when it is I know that with the sting, you’re fading too._

_And I guess I need to think about the outside world, too. We’d have to put off being One Direction, because we’re not One Direction without you. But I’m not sure what I’d do with my time. Songwriting, maybe. If I did that we might have a wicked but super depressing fifth album._

_Would I be able to feel the same way about you that I do now if we didn’t have any form of real (two-sided) conversation in, like, a year? I can’t imagine it. God, can you please wake up soon?_

_I’ve also started thinking about what to do if you do wake up soon, though. Maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up, who knows, so I need to quickly plan some romantic gesture to welcome you back._

_Also do you remember our fight, or will you when you wake? I hope you’re not lying there not being able to wake up, but able to think. Oh God I need to get that idea out of my head, it fucking scares me._

_I hope you’re at rest, like truly at rest. Lying on the beach somewhere with all the tattoos you haven’t gotten but still want to and your hair whatever length you want it to be, maybe I’m there and we’re drinking and fucking and I’m making you happy and you are happy and we never get hangovers or have work or feel stress. Maybe I’m not there, maybe it’s less stressful to just not deal with me._

_This has just become me rambling, hasn’t it?_

_Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to be the case. Just the_ thought _of telling you, and just you all this, it’s stimulating, I guess? I’m so sorry, Harry, for being such a stubborn asshole the night of the fight. I wasn’t being honest, but you need to understand I wasn’t being honest to myself either._

_When you asked me if it bothered me, staying closeted about us to the media and to our fans, well, I convinced myself it didn’t. Because I knew it would upset you, to know I was upset. And that’s my biggest fear, Haz. My biggest fear is seeing you hurt, because of me._

_So that’s why this is a fucking ironic situation, because it’s my fault you’ve fallen into a coma. Like, fuck, it’s almost comical how badly my plan fucked up. I never meant to hurt you emotionally. I ended up hurting you emotionally, and also physically. Amazing._

_But, I was talking about our fight a minute ago, you remember? I lied when I said not telling the world how I feel about you was fine for me. And I tried to justify that, I did. But, the look in your eyes, that look of sadness, well it annulled any justification I could have spit at you. I don’t know why I was being so stupid. I was so blinded by this, this want to do what I assumed was best for you, and I couldn’t see you were telling me my way was wrong. I probably made you feel like I didn’t care about what you had to say on your own behalf, but that’s not true, Harry, it’s not. I care so, so fucking much. I caused you more pain that night than I ever thought I could, because I was arrogant and selfish. And I am so, so sorry for that._

_I think that’s what I want you to hear that most right now. That I’m sorry._

_And also, that I love you._

_If anything happens to you, and if you can’t make it out of this, I hope you’ll know, you’ll be leaving this world loved. Completely and utterly loved by a boy who was too afraid to tell the world._

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

 

It took Louis almost two hours to find the right way to write this second entry. And now it’s the next morning, at 9:42, and he has read it all aloud to Harry.

He feels he should begin the third entry by writing about how bad traffic was on the way over to the hospital and how his nightmares had come back last night and there was only one but it was almost a _relief_ to Louis. He could write about how he finally turned the airplane mode off on his phone this morning and it flooded with texts and calls and social media notifications and so he had to just leave it at home to cool down. But he doesn’t.

“I guess I should explain myself a little, about why I’m not catching my journal up on this morning’s events. Well, I know that I’m just going to fill it up with more stuff that will disparage my achievement of going back on social media. I keep doing things that either push me towards normalcy or push me back into grieving. And I don’t want that to be what happens today. Today I just want to talk to you, alone, and unscripted.

“It’s amazing I haven’t done this sooner when you think about it. I’m not sure why I didn’t feel okay with this sooner. That’s a lie. I know why. It’s weird having a one sided conversation because you’re here but you’re not present, you know? Like, I’m afraid I’ll forget you can’t answer and expect an answer and then I’ll get mad at you or myself because it’s easier to be angry than sad.”

Louis looks up from the hands crossed on his lap, up at Harry. “And, the doctor says you’re not doing too well. He checked on you this morning when I was mid-entry-reading and I’m not sure how much he heard but I think he heard enough to take _even more_ pity on me. Douche.”

Louis stands and brushes some of the hair out of Harry’s face. “It’s funny, everyday Gemma comes here and braids your hair, and at the end of everyday she undoes it. I don’t get her sometimes.”

He sits back down and slowly pulls one of Harry’s hands towards himself. Slowly, he kisses each knuckle. And then he smiles.

“I hope you’ll be warmer by the time I leave; you’re always so cold. I asked your nurse for another blanket for you the other day but she wouldn’t give it to me. It’s kind of nice that they’re treating you like everyone else. Of course you’ve got a better boyfriend than anyone else here and so tomorrow I’m bringing you in another blanket, a little blanket to maybe wrap around your feet. Your feet were always cold when you were awake as well.”

Louis feels himself begin to get choked up after sitting in silence for a moment, eyes becoming glazed over. “God, I wish I could just stop feeling like this is all new, every single time I see you without that smile on your face. Fuck Harry, you were _always_ smiling; I don’t think I even really thought about it before. This is so scary. I haven’t used that word to describe this yet, but Harry, this is terrifying. And it so fucking selfish of me to say that because I know I would be so much more afraid if I were where you are, but, shit, Harry, I’m really, really scared.”

His voice was barely a whisper; he told himself it was because he didn’t want anyone to hear, but truthfully, he couldn’t get his vocal chords to cooperate.

“Harry, tomorrow’s two weeks without you. And every day you stay asleep, I know it just means you’re probably gonna die. Harry,” Louis’ voice completely escapes him; he allows a few tears to drip down his cheek. “Harry you can’t leave me now. Please, Harry, I need you here. And I know how fucking selfish I’m being but please, if you can do this for me. Please, if you wake up for me I’ll never ask anything of you, ever, ever again. I just, I miss you. I miss everything,” Louis hiccups, and has to stop again. “I miss every little fucking thing because everything about you was so full of life, and, I don’t think you’ll ever understand what it’s like to watch you, _you_ , be so lifeless. I miss the green in your eyes and that pale color they always get around this time of year. And I miss each one your stupid voices that I’ve ever heard you pull these past four years. I miss your morning voice and your scratchy-throat voice and your voice when you talk to kids and that fucking smile in your voice when you tell a shitty joke and your strained voice from singing too fucking much and don’t let me think about your fucking voice when you sing, Harry. And, and, Harry, I miss your touch, and I am fucking touching you right now. Why can’t this be easier? Why did any of this have to happen to you?”

Louis crawls out of his seat and squats next to the bed. He slips one arm underneath Harry’s back, and places the other across Harry’s abdomen. He pulls himself closer to Harry’s body, careful not to disturb any wires.

“I miss how excited you get about everything and how you make my life fun and I miss the way you changed everything about me when you came into my life. I want you back, Harry; couldn’t you have just, stayed?”

He buries his face in Harry’s chest. And he weeps. He cries with his entire body; he can hear each exhale leaving his constricted throat and in the moment all he wants is for Harry to hug him back.

Louis isn’t sure how long he’s like this, he just remembers hearing the door swing open, and ignoring it.

And suddenly someone’s gently pulling him off Harry, but Louis’ eyes are squeezed shut and he refuses to move. He isn’t sure if he’s being yelled at or not, it’s all overshadowed by the single tone that’s been ringing in his head since he first stepped into the room earlier today.

“Louis, sweetheart, look at me.”

This is the first thing to get through to Louis. It’s Anne.

Louis slowly picks up his head and turns it towards Anne.

“Anne I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Louis gushes, regretting letting her see him this broken.

He keeps apologizing as Anne says over him, “No, no, don’t be sorry, babe, come here.”

Louis let’s Anne pull him off Harry, and he feels her begin to hug him. No, she wasn’t hugging him, really, she was holding him.

Louis snakes his arms around her and tries to stop his crying. Every time he tries to say anything, Anne silences him.

Louis finally stops crying. He’s not sure how long it takes, but it ends.

“Alright, Lou, are you okay?” Anne asks, her head still resting on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, Anne, I’m just, I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“No, no, don’t say that. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be strong just for us, Louis, we understand if you act like this. We’ve all broken down, I know it’s hard, and I’m glad you’re not letting this bottle inside you. You’re doing the right thing, letting it out.”

“I just, I’ve been doing so much better and I can’t believe I let this happen. Any of this.”

Anne doesn’t respond to this. Louis wonders if it’s because she know all of this is his fault.

They both stand up, finally stepping apart.

“C’mon, I brought a visitor who I think wants to see you.”

 

Anne and Louis drive to Harry’s flat; it’s silent, the car ride. Louis’ still embarrassed from Anne seeing him crying. He knows it’s stupid, he knows Anne doesn’t care, but he can’t help feeling guilty about it. He forgets about it when they pull up to Harry’s building. It’s nauseating when Louis first steps in; it still smells just like Harry. He was hoping Gemma and Anne would have been able to mask it.

He walks with Anne into the kitchen, where he sees his mum and Gemma chatting and sipping on tea.

“Mum!” he exclaims, going to give her a hug.

She stands, waiting to embrace him.

Louis holds onto her for a minute, his eyes squeezed shut.

And suddenly he feels warmth spread through his shoulders and back. Something about his mum being there for him, everything just feels safer.

When they finally break apart, Johannah sits back down, holding onto Louis’ hand.

“What are you doing here?” Louis says softly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Anne and Gemma attempt to sneakily exit the room.

His mum sits again. “Anne called, said you might like seeing me right now. I had heard the news but you wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” Louis scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “I had turned off my phone, until, this morning, actually. Sorry, I just, wasn’t thinking.”

“Not even of your dear ol’ mum? Well, this is devastating,” Johannah teases.

Louis grins. “I’m glad you could come down here, though. Really.”

“Well, I can only imagine what it’s been like. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here any sooner.”

“No, no, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet, my baby boy.”

Johannah kisses the back of Louis’ hand. Louis refrains from telling her to stop making such a big deal about all this.

“Should we invite Anne and Gemma back?”

“Yeah, I suppose, but first, I wanted to know if it’d be okay if I stayed with you the few days I’m staying here?”

“Yeah, Mum, of course.” Louis hugs her again, and kisses the tops of her head.

“Also why have you been crying?”

Louis laughs. “We can talk about it back at my place, I promise.”


End file.
